


in my defence (i have none)

by leopoldjamesfitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry for this, garbage fic rise, in every way, mentions of mackelena/huntingbird but in a vague way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/pseuds/leopoldjamesfitz
Summary: It had been a long day, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that she hadn’t been able to sit properly for hours, even more so that she could still feel his eyes watching her from across the room. She didn’t dare look his way, perhaps giving herself the benefit of the doubt that they wouldn’t have another rendezvous before the end of the night.She was stronger than this.Her eyes met his across the room when she was scanning, completely accidentally. She watched the edge of a smirk cross his face and was suddenly filled with the temptation to kiss it off.Well, f*ck.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 20
Kudos: 122





	in my defence (i have none)

_four hundred and sixty two days before_

The sound of royalty free classical music filtered through the speaker that she was standing next to, and she let out a soft hum along with it, although she had no idea what the tune was. It’d been approximately sixteen hours since she’d been woken up that morning, and she was beginning to feel it now.

She stared out at the dance floor, watching two of her best friends embrace and dance with each other, even though he wasn’t much of a dancer.

It had been a long day, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that she hadn’t been able to sit properly for hours, even more so that she could still feel his eyes watching her from across the room. She didn’t dare look his way, perhaps giving herself the benefit of the doubt that they wouldn’t have another rendezvous before the end of the night.

She was stronger than this.

Her eyes met his across the room when she was scanning, completely accidentally. She watched the edge of a smirk cross his face and was suddenly filled with the temptation to kiss it off.

Well, fuck.

* * *

_four hundred and ninety three days before_

“Jemma, I am super happy for you, like _super_ happy, but I swear to God, if I have to walk through another bridal shop today, I am going to be forced to commit murder.”

Jemma laughs at her, and god, she was radiant. Daisy would have sworn that she’d heard that kind of glow only came from pregnancy, but in truth, her friend had been like this since the day that she’d come back from her Christmas Holidays with a new beau attached. Love looked good on her, but it did not make the blisters forming on her feet any more manageable to handle.

She reached out and grabbed Daisy’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “Just one more,” she promised, and although Daisy doubted it was just _one_ more, she let herself be talked into walking the extra block to the next one. God, she was going to need to be carried around for the rest of the week.

Idly, she wondered if she could convince them to factor that into their wedding budget. Maid-of-Honor and Best-Man tax. (Although, they only let her choose one of those roles, citing that she couldn’t possibly deal with all of it at once. They would be right, but she’d still wanted to try after listening to six months of them bemoaning about their future before Fitz finally got on that knee.)

Thankfully, and by thankfully she meant by some grace of god herself, Jemma did find her dress. And maybe Daisy cried until the dress was put back into its bag, and maybe even after that when Jemma finally joined her on the couch and the two of them finished the complimentary bottle of champagne that they were given.

But that wasn’t confirmed. Not even in the slightest.

“Bobbi will be here a couple of weeks before the wedding,” Jemma says casually over their lunch, and Daisy nods carefully as she takes a sip of the wine, scowl. She almost missed the fancy-uptown-boutique champagne. That wasn’t a sentence that she thought she would say twice. “And given that they are still together by that time, I suppose Hunter will be there, as well.”

She lets out a soft snort, chewing thoughtfully on a fry while the two of them share a knowing look. “Honestly, the fact that your brother managed to catch her in the first place is still beyond my realm of knowledge. She’s a Goddess. He’s a toad.”

Jemma, to her merit, managed to catch her laughter, giving Daisy a pointed look that had no heat behind it. It never did. Daisy had met Jemma’s half-brother a handful of times over the years of their friendship. He and his wife lived across the country in California, where she headed a Biochemistry Lab. She wasn’t sure _what_ Hunter was doing for work at this point, but she hadn’t imagined it was much.

 _One of us must be the family disappoint, love_ , he’d say once, proudly boasting it over dinner with their Mum and Jemma’s Dad. Daisy had found it funny, but the other three clearly had not.

“Anyway,” Jemma cleared her throat, though the amusement was still on her face. “Mack and Elena are driving up from Washington that week, and oh, it’ll be so nice to see Christopher. Elena sends me pictures all the time, but he’s getting so big.” She smiled fondly at the thought and took a bite of her salad.

Jemma had never been worried about keeping her weight down for the wedding, but she was also one of the best eaters that Daisy knew. It was kind of the worst thing she knew about her. She made a grimace and grabbed another fry.

“When are dear old Mum and Dad flying across the Atlantic for their only daughter?” She asks dramatically, ignoring the gentle roll of Jemma’s eyes that she gets in return.

“Next week. Dad had some holidays saved up that apparently they can’t wait to waste through for the final month before the wedding.” Jemma didn’t seem at all enthused by this thought, and Daisy reached over, patting her hand gently.

She knew, having listened to it several times as well over the years of her friendship, that Jemma’s relationship with her Mum was strained. It’s not completely terrible, but it’s also not the best. She knows, too, that Jemma hated complaining to her, given that the only connection Daisy has ever had to her own biological mother was a brief court-mandated visit when she was six.

She shuddered at the memory and reached for her burger. “Lucky us,” she says with a slight grin before biting into it. The laughter that peels out of Jemma was almost worth the mustard that she drops straight on her lap. Almost.

They’ll be in this together. Even if ‘together’ means duelling with the worst of either side of the Fitz-Simmons’ family.

* * *

_four hundred and sixty nine days before_

“We appreciate you so much,” Jemma whispered into her ear as she hugged her close, and Daisy barely had a moment to process before she was being tussled to Fitz, who hugged her just as tight.

“Really,” he agreed, even though it was impossible to believe that he’d heard what Jemma said. “We owe you more than just our thanks, but also our gratitude, and probably a stake in our wills at this point.”

Daisy pulled away, wiping the undersides of her eyes as she blinked away the tears. It was hard to believe that the two of them would be married next week. Well, no, it really wasn’t. She knew that they were mentally and spiritually compatible and had been unfortunate enough to walk in on them learning that they were also physically compatible on more than one occasion.

But also, she’d been on the receiving end of the _I want to marry Jemma_ – _What if he doesn’t want to get married? What happens to our relationship then?_ conversations for the better part of the last few months and to say that she was grateful that they had finally found common ground on that, because she’d truly not been aware how much more she would have been able to deal with that.

She loved them both dearly, but they were so thick.

“No need for the will thing,” she laughed, brushing her fingers through her hair. “Although, I could absolutely go with a spa day or like… a lifetime supply of spa days.” The couple laughed, surprised at her confession, though she couldn’t even begin to tell them how serious she was. “And probably a glass of champagne, or ten.” She added, for good measure.

Jemma just smiled, hailing a waitress to stop and hold out the tray toward them and God, sometimes Daisy genuinely forgot how loaded her friend’s parents were. They had spared no expense for the final party before her wedding. Daisy sipped the flute thankfully.

This whole thing was a bit much, even for her, who’d spent much of her early twenties prowling through expensive ass parties, even though – admittedly – she’d been prowling because she’d been working for a hacking bureau who wanted the most elicit details that they could get from politicians and hadn’t been able to quite enjoy the aura of the room.

She saw the tall heaping man approach from Fitz’s other side from a mile away and was swept up into a hug the next second. If it weren’t for the familiar scent and the surprised sound of his wife’s laughter, she might’ve been a little bit concerned about who’d been grabbing her, but when she pulled away, both were grinning back at her.

“It’s so great to see you both,” she cried as Elena tugged her closer, whispering much the same into the shell of her ear. She thought that the last time she’d seen them might’ve been at Fitz-Simmons’ engagement party nearly a year and a half before, which seemed like a lifetime ago now. “Where’s the pictures of my baby? I miss him. You two do not post him on Instagram enough.”

It was easy to get pulled into the conversation after that, even though the soon-to-be-wedded couple ended up being pulled away by their mother’s, who insisted they do rounds for the family members that had “travelled all this way just for them.” Jemma had barely managed to stop from sending a pleading look in their direction as she’d been pulled away, but Fitz had been already sending out the S.O.S. messages.

They’d have to be doing that a lot coming up, Daisy reasoned; it was only natural to encourage them to embrace it rather than hide away from it. She knew that neither of their friends were that into public displays, but they were about to get married. Literally the most public thing a duo could do.

“Mum’s got her run ragged already?” Hunter asked, and it took a second for Daisy to even realize that he and Bobbi had occupied the empty space that Fitz-Simmons had been taking, although they weren’t quite as used to the lack of personal space that the two seemed to operate solely on. “Bless her heart. If she keeps it up, Jemma will decide on the courthouse wedding after all of this.”

Daisy shuffled a little, to give them more space, inadvertently knocking into someone. She twisted, mouth forming an apology before her eyes met his. She stopped suddenly, sizing him up. She could have sworn she’d seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t quite place where.

“No, that’s me, I’m sorry.” He replied quickly, curtly. Daisy eased back a little, biting on the inside of her cheek. “I’m just trying to hide from most of the… bustling. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Hunter guffawed before she could say another word, and she sharply turned toward him. She hoped that she could tell he was glaring. “Jemma hasn’t been much in the way of a bridezilla, as this one was,” he nudged his wife gently, who just rolls her eyes with a slight, but warm smile. “But I promise you, if one of the groomsmen get a black eye from accidentally running into her maid-of-honor’s elbow, she’s going to reign hell fire down on the both of you.”

It was then that the pieces started falling into place for her, and most specifically then that she realized just _where_ she’d seen him before. He was in a handful of pictures that are scattered around the Fitz-Simmons apartment, but more specifically, he was in one of her favorites of Fitz; the Starsky to his Hutch.

She thought idly, his name was Damien. Darren? God. She felt bad that she couldn’t remember the name of one of Fitz’s longest friends.

“Keep it going, Hunter,” Elena teased, and caught Daisy’s attention. She grins at the mischievous grin on the other woman’s face. “And maybe your black eye won’t be a mistake.”

There’s laughter that covers the offended cry that Hunter made, and really, these are just some of the reasons why she’s so mad that all her favorite people live so far away. It takes big events like weddings, or births, or funerals to get the gang back together again.

Daisy stole a glance at the crowd, looking for either of their lost friends, finding them pinned into a conversation with Jemma’s least favorite aunt. “Should we help them?” She asked, after a moment, almost feeling the slightest bit of pity.

“Ah, but Aunt Marguerite is probably so close to telling him about the time that Jemma singed her eyebrows off.” Hunter sighed a little, and when Daisy looked over at him, she couldn’t help but notice how sullen and pouty he’d become. It was almost laughable. “She’ll be fine. Aunt Marguerite didn’t run this one off with the bath story.” He sharply turned to Bobbi, who was grinning mischievously. “You’re not repeating that story, Bob.”

Daisy, on the other hand, was now more than just mildly curious. She shared a look with the blonde, who just zips her mouth closed. Not one to be deterred, she turns her heels on Hunter. He’s always been a bit scared of her.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Fitz’s friend watching her and tried her best not to flush.

“Oh!” She shook off the feeling of his gaze, though she didn’t happen to be able to ignore the heat that filled her, all the same. “Well, now you **have** to tell us this story.”

* * *

_four hundred and sixty three days before_

She learned his name was Daniel, when Jemma referred to him as such the next day at brunch, and barely managed to pass off that she’d known that all along. (Listen, it wasn’t that she hadn’t been paying attention, but rather that in the time that Fitz-Simmons had been dating and now engaged, she’d only met him once, and that was the week before. She couldn’t be held accountable for remember _everyone’s_ name.

If Jemma caught onto her bluff, she didn’t ask about it.)

The group of them were at an uptown restaurant that she thought Jemma’s mother had picked out. It was the day before the wedding, and they were starting the day early with champagne. It was already promising.

She had watched him sit down next to Fitz, the same way she had with Jemma. The rest of the table, sans Fitz’s mum, were all paired up for the most part, but both of their mums were chatting up a storm, so really, Jemma’s dad was the odd one out, too.

They hadn’t talked much the week before, but she’d gathered some information about him over the week. Just enough to not throw off any suspicion. Thankfully, she thought, Jemma’s head had been in twenty other places and she hadn’t picked up on anything that Daisy might’ve been unfortunately dropping in the name of being ‘not obvious’.

At least she was a better liar than her friend.

One thing that had, by some means, slipped past her was how organized the whole of the Simmons’ family was. If she’d thought Jemma was bad, with her precise lists and to-dos that made Daisy’s regular schedule look like a child’s drawing, Judy Simmons was ten times as bad. It was a bit intimidating to watch them both interact, albeit Jemma was the calmer of the duo, happy to marry Fitz no matter the circumstances.

Daisy wouldn’t tell Frances that Jemma had already sent three messages that day threatening to courthouse the whole thing and leave their families in a lurch, because money could be gained again, but nothing would be able to replace the memory of their meddling mothers.

With that being said, by the time brunch was over, she had a thought that Judy and Frances had enjoyed far too much of the champagne, because they had both dialled back several levels in the couple of hours that they’d been there. Neither Fitz nor Jemma looked like they were completely put off by that fact, either.

She was happy for them, and she knew that they were happy for each other, but knew that in two days time, they would all be infinitely glad for this whole exchange to be over.

She found herself looking over, across the table, a few times too many. She felt like a schoolgirl in a lot of ways, hoping to catch the eye of the cutest boy in class. It was ridiculous. But that hadn’t stopped her, and it certainly hadn’t stopped _him_ from staring back. (Or maybe, just maybe, that part had been in her head.)

On their way out the door, Jemma pulled out her phone, nudging her shoulder as she did, and Daisy looked up. She held out the device, which she took after shoving her own in her arm pit and analyzed what she was looking at it.

The processional plan. Daisy inwardly groaned. A part of her had half hoped that Jemma would toss the whole thing together at the rehearsal dinner tonight, but she should have known her best friend better than that. The mere fact that she was given a heads up was an act of kindness.

She looked over the diagram, which had squares for the seats that lined the hall, and circles for the people involved. At the very back was Jemma and her father, and then Jemma’s young cousins who acted as the ring bearer and flower girl, and then the line of their groomsmen and bridesmaids, topping it off with her and… Daniel?

She was fairly certain that she remembered Jemma saying that Mack had taken over the role, because they’d both decided that Mack was far less to do anything absolutely crazy. And given that she _was_ the maid of honor – a tag that she wore quite proudly – she’d just assumed that she’d be walking with him. They’d even jokingly tried it a handful of times before now.

She looked like a pea next to him, and she had a good inch on Elena. Love worked in mysterious ways, she supposed.

Her eyes flickered up with interest and Jemma pursed her lips quietly. “You two are the odd ones out,” she reasoned quietly. “Bobbi and Hunter are walking together, and it would be weird to pair one couple up without the other so there’s Mack and Elena together and… then there’s just you two.”

“That’s not going to cause a weird shuffle at the altar?” She asked, ignoring the way her heart sped up at the prospect. Okay, maybe she had a tiny, teensy crush. It was not a big deal. She was a grown woman. Whose relationships had all been absolute hellfire before now. Not important.

Jemma wrinkled her nose, obviously having thought through the prospects, but before she could answer, the group had begun to pull away and dissipate, and she turned to give hugs and give her thanks for those who had shown up, reminding them all that the rehearsal dinner was at 5:00PM sharp.

“That’s Eastern Standard Time, Hunter!” She called as he walked away, flipping her the bird. Their mum made a startled gasp beside her that Daisy had to turn away from in order to laugh properly.

God, she loved weddings.

Jemma turned back to her, taking her phone and promptly putting it in her clutch before she grabbed both of Daisy’s hands, squeezing them gingerly. “To answer your question, maybe?” She sighed gently. “We’ll see about it and block it all out tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows, a soft laugh falling from her lips. “Blocking? I didn’t know Simmons did theatre!” She cried jokingly. Jemma let out a huff of a sigh and pulled her into her arms, squeezing her tight.

Growing up in the system, she’d always imagined that it would be like to have a sister. Someone who she could hug and love and cry on their wedding day. She’d never imagined that Jemma would be that when they’d first met, but she was glad to be here now.

“I haven’t.” She replied quickly as they pulled away, allowing herself to be tugged back into Fitz’s chest as he kissed her temple, weaving their hands together. “I’ve just done an intense amount of research.”

Daisy did not doubt that for one minute.

“Okay. We have to go, but we’ll see you later. 5PM. Be late and I’ll kill you.” Jemma promised, leaning in to squeeze her one last time before relinquishing her hold.

Fitz leaned in, too, kissing her cheek as he squeezed her arm before steering Jemma back toward their awaiting cab, where their mothers and Jemma’s father were already situated inside. She waved as the two of them ducked in and the cab drove off.

Leaving just the two of them remaining. Daisy wondered if this wasn’t set up. She narrowed her eyes at the direction that the couple and their parents had just disappeared. She would pin her best friend down later and get the real answers out of her one way or another.

Daisy looked over him, truly watching him for a few seconds. He hadn’t tried to say anything, or to follow behind everyone else as they had dispersed. She let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms over her chest and, inadvertently, jostling her phone out of her grip. He caught it just before it hit the ground, holding it out to her. She looked at him thankfully. SHIELD paycheque or not, she could not substantiate buying another $1100 phone just mere months after buying the last one.

“So, we’ll be walking down the aisle together.” She told him, in some vain attempt to sound casual. She hoped it sold over.

He nodded, looking passive about the thought, or maybe she was just reading into it too much. She hated that she hoped that she was. “Fitz told me.” He announced, shrugging a little. “Said she was pretty bent out of shape on how to do it without making it look ‘weird’ or something.”

Daisy let out a tiny laugh, imagining it now. Honestly, the fact that Jemma hadn’t brought it up to her seemed rather weird. She’d already promised to be her maid of honor. That wouldn’t change just because she was walking down the aisle with a stranger. It could be worse. It could have been a freaky cousin who stared at her boobs the entire time.

“That sounds like Jemma. I have absolutely no doubt that she’s been agonizing about that one minor detail for the better part of two weeks, minimum.” She pressed her lips into a thin smile, shaking off whatever nervousness was fluttering within her. They were just having a conversation. “She’s been like that since I met her.”

The tone in her voice was fond, she thought, and she thought about the day that she’d met Jemma idly, all those years before. She’d thought Jemma was a bit stuck up, to be honest, but then the woman had begun showing her all the best spots to hide, citing that while she loved her job, there was just some times that you needed to let off a little steam.

Daisy had known they’d be friends forever at that point.

“She’s a good one.” He seemed to reason with her, although Daisy already knew that. “I met her, I think, the day after he came back with her.” She nodded, remembering that in a sort of faraway way. She thought that she remembered being at Jemma’s apartment while the latter had been going through her entire closet, declaring she had nothing to wear. It was the most girly she’d ever seen Jemma be. “My Mom always makes him come over for Christmas, because that’s what he used to do when he first ‘hopped the pond’, so we had a belated Christmas dinner and he texted me that morning to ask if he could have a plus one come along.”

A part of her wasn’t all that surprised – she’d shared a handful of conversations with them while they’d still been over there – when she’d been awake at the same time as them and not staying up all night watching Hallmark movies – and she’d seen the connection, then. It was a bit funny to think how Jemma had gone from believing she would truly never see him again, to being married to him in just under a year and a half.

But then again, she respected them fully for going after what they wanted. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure that she would ever have that same kind of motivation. She’d let her bridges burn freely too many times.

With a slight shake of her head, she brushed away her thoughts. “So, how did that work?” She sighed when he just stared back, slightly confused. “I mean. I’ve heard Jemma mention that the two of you’d known each other since childhood but Fitz is very Scottish and you’re very…”

“Not?” He laughed, nodding his head quickly. “My Mother’s Father was. We spent a summer there settling his finances and estate when I was about eight. That’s when I met Fitz. Although he went by Leo still, then.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows at that, humming thoughtfully. She could remember exactly three points in which she’d heard anyone call him anything other than Fitz, and that had mostly by Judy. She’d always laughed at the way the tips of his ears pinked every time she used his name, like it was some forbidden secret. It wasn’t _that_ bad.

“Kept in touch with letters and the occasional phone call until he told me that he was moving to New York to work for Stark. I didn’t believe it until he was actually showing me around the office.” He laughed then, the sound incredulous but warm, like honey. “What about you? How did you meet Jemma?”

It took her a moment to realize that they’d both begun walking. She’d started following him subconsciously. Given that her apartment was in the opposite direction, nowhere near where she needed to be, she supposed that she should turn away, say goodbye to him then, but she didn’t find it necessary to try and shift back in that direction.

“Oh. The first day of work for me. She was assigned to be my ‘welcome liaison’ or whatever the fuck they call that. And it was history after that.” She knew it was a bit more complex than that, because there had been a period of time thereafter that she was sure that Jemma hated her, given that she’d almost immediately begun ignoring her at work, but she’d that that was just how her mind worked when she was working on a project. Jemma would often disappear for weeks on end until she was close to a solution before reappearing as though nothing had happened.

It worked for them, for the most part, and worked for Fitz and Simmons now, who she’d learned were two sides of the same coin. With that being said, Jemma had dropped projects mid thought through both of Daisy’s break ups and shown up with the most ridiculously expensive ice cream without question. She wasn’t a bad friend at all. She was a great one.

“You two seem close.” Daniel said, cutting her out of her thoughts once more. She smiled and nodded slowly.

“We are.” She agreed. There was very little that the two of them didn’t do for each other, or at least together. Jemma had coached her through telling the first ex, that Jemma had had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting, where to go and how to get there just three days after they’d met. She was golden. “Jemma’s the closest thing I have to a sister, and vice versa. Her parents have basically adopted me as one of their own.”

He smiled in her direction, and she ignored another flutter in her stomach as he did. “This is my stop.” He tilted his head toward the bus stop sign, and she flushed, dipping her head. She suddenly realized that she would have to go the long way around just to start walking toward her apartment just to save herself the embarrassment of making it painfully obvious that she’d been following him in the wrong direction.

Jemma would never let her live that one down.

“I guess I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner.” He said, momentarily distracting her with the way he looked at her. She couldn’t place her finger on what he was thinking in that moment, but a part of her wanted to know.

The bus pulled up before she could say anything else, anything monumental, anything that might not make her overthink this whole exchange later when she was getting ready. She was at a loss for words. “See you then.” She whispered quietly, softly, and much more daintily than she’d thought herself to be capable of.

The grin he gave her before he stepped on sat in the forefront of her mind for the rest of the day.

* * *

_four hundred and sixty two days before_

“Are we really going to be those people?” He asked against her mouth, no malice in his voice as he spoke, and she let out a throaty laugh when he was the one to lock the bathroom door behind them.

She supposed that he’d already answered that question for himself, but dipped her lips to his ear, momentarily distracted when his lips found her pulse point. “What people?” She asked, feigning innocence.

He let out a low laugh, pulling back just enough to leave her whining. He pulled her further into the bathroom, and it only occurred to her then that they hadn’t even checked if they were locking anyone else in with them, but a quick check of the opened doors of the stalls eased those worries.

She was lifted on top of the counter a second later, and she spread her legs, an invitation that he did not miss. He moved between them, mouth at her throat again.

“The kind of people,” he murmured, if only to satisfy her curiosity, “who stand in a wedding for their friends and then hook up at the reception.”

She knew the cliché all too well, and truth be told, she’d thought up until recently that she’d be able to get away with it. And then he’d walked in. He pressed another kiss behind her ear that made her grasp the back of his neck as she let out a throaty gasp.

“Are you complaining?” She asked after a moment, hooking one foot around the back of his leg, pulling him impossibly closer.

He shifted, just enough to catch her gaze. “Never.” He promised and slanted their mouths back together.

For obvious reasons, that was the last of their chatter.

* * *

_three hundred and seventy days before_

Daisy raised her eyebrows as Jemma twirled in front of her, the flowing portion of the dress taking a moment to settle down after she did. It had been three months since the wedding and every damn time she saw their friends, she wondered if the post-wedding bliss would ever fade, and every time she was met with them both on cloud nine.

If it weren’t for the fact that it was 10:00AM, and that she’d missed out on far too much sleep the night before, she might not be so sour about it.

That was not to say that she wasn’t happy for them, because she genuinely was, she just wished that they would be happy somewhere else. Specifically, not right in front of her before her coffee had even had a chance to give her that little boost that she needed in order to get through the rest of the day.

“Well?” Jemma looked at her expectantly, and Daisy sat up a little. It wasn’t her friend’s fault that she’d missed sleep. Frankly, at the time, Daisy hadn’t been complaining either. She managed to sweep away the sleep from her sluggish features to step out of her office, taking Jemma by the hand and twirling her again.

The other woman’s smile was infectious.

“If you end up wearing that dress for long after you show Fitz, I will be surprised.” She wiggled her eyebrows and watched as her friend flushed before smacking her chest lightly with her free hand. She squeezed Daisy’s hand with her other.

It wasn’t as though Daisy had missed the days when she’d been walking funny coming into work; she’d just had the tact to not bring it up. And maybe it was a little bit more that she wasn’t prepared for the visuals that would flood her mind if she thought about it in more than just passing.

She’d known Fitz-Simmons in the early stages of their relationship when they’d been a sea away and, frankly, horny. The rings on their fingers seemed to only catapult that horniness, and Daisy still couldn’t decide if that was their superpower or their kryptonite.

She was on the side of it being the latter this morning, but she was almost positive that that was just the lack of coffee talking.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Jemma changed tactics quickly, still beaming as she dropped Daisy’s hands and moved to grab her phone from her pocket – because of course that bombshell of a dress would also be functional – and flicking through something quietly. “I think it’s just going to be you and I, Fitz, and Mack and Elena. Daniel hasn’t responded to the request, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s just terrible at technology or more of a homebody than Fitz is.” She pursed her lips contemplatively.

“He’ll be there.” Daisy promised, blanking a little when she realized how quickly she’d answered.

Jemma immediately took her attention off her phone, lowering it a little as she seemingly studied her friend. Daisy inwardly grimaced, because she knew that seemingly innocent statement would not be something that she would be able to get away with _not_ elaborating for the class.

“Oh?” Jemma asked, feigning innocence. She moved toward the desk, sitting in the chair in front of the item, and it took every piece of Daisy to not groan in that moment. “You’ve been speaking to him?”

Well, more or less, Daisy answered inwardly. They were really good at not talking most times.

She let out a soft sigh, moving to sit in her own chair, instinctively grabbing for her coffee. It was too early for this, she’d decided. Maybe she could play dead or just sit very still until Jemma got bored. Or maybe she could fly out the window behind her and join a colony.

As much as she loved her friend, and she _loved_ Jemma with every piece of her, she could be a little intrusive at times. Especially with things like this. And while she knew if she simply said, “I don’t want to talk about it right now”, Jemma would drop the conversation immediately, a part of her hesitated at that thought.

Maybe she didn’t want her to? What the hell was this? It had taken her far too long to even bring up the prospect of Lincoln, and they both knew how quickly that had ended. Maybe her relationships were like Voldemort and shouldn’t be named.

“I mean. Not since this morning, but… in general. Yes.” She paused, taking a slow sip of coffee as a look of realization crossed Jemma’s face. She lit up, sitting forward in her chair. “We’ve been… talking.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped quietly, clapping her hands together. “I knew it. I…” she grinned quietly. “How long?”

The way she saw it, she had two choices: Choice (1) Involved denying the obvious that she’d already sort of painted out for her best friend and leaving immediately to become a nun which, given her track record, probably wasn’t a bad idea. Or choice (2) spill the beans.

She assumed, rightly, that the latter would save her a lot of trouble. She would be right.

“Since your wedding?” She asked, unable to hide the slight cringe that came across her features. Jemma didn’t seem altogether shocked at this confession, though, and that was somehow worse than the slight embarrassment she felt.

They’d known that it would come to this point eventually, had already had that conversation, but she had also imagined something more formal than her inadvertently letting Jemma know that they had been fucking this morning and that was how she’d known he would be coming to dinner tonight. As her date, nonetheless.

“You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. I was wondering why you were so relaxed lately,” Jemma hummed, dissolving into giggles just a handful of seconds later when Daisy blinked at her, slightly horrified. She was beginning to dislike post-wedding Jemma. Just slightly.

She let out a tiny groan, pushing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets as she leaned back in her office chair, ignoring the quiet giggling. “Can we go back to embarrassing you for being horny? That was more fun.” She asked, almost pitifully, and that only made Jemma laugh more loudly.

“Oh come on,” she waved her hand in her direction, reaching over and laying her palm on top of Daisy’s hands when she laid them back down. “I’m just teasing. I’m genuinely happy for you both.”

She knew; anyone else might give her the rag-around but not Jemma. She was as loyal as they came, and to a fault at times. Despite being one of the worst liars that she had ever met, she had never told her a secret that had found its way into someone else’s ears and she had told her some pretty scandalous things.

Daisy leaned forward, covering Jemma’s hand with her own as she smiled ever so slightly. A second later, Jemma paled and ripped her hand away, reaching for the garbage can and retching. She flinched backward at the sound; eyes wide as the other woman lose what little she’d seen her eat for breakfast that morning.

When Jemma sat up, she held herself for a moment before she grabbed a tissue off the desk and wiped her mouth and went methodically about cleaning up the mess. She threw her tissue away, tied the bag and threw it down the chute before returning to the room, grabbing her phone off the table where she’d laid it earlier.

Daisy watched her, a mix of shock and awe in her features. “Woah, where the hell did that come from?” She asked as Jemma shoved her phone back into her pocket and gripped the back of the chair she’d just been sitting on. She looked like she was about to do that all over again.

“I, erm…” She let out a slow breath, and idly Daisy wondered if she shouldn’t be encouraging her back to the bathroom. “I might be pregnant?”

Truthfully, she couldn’t say that she was surprised by the confession by any means, given their track record, but the uncertain, yet frank way that her friend dropped that on her lap and just left it there had her gaping.

“ _Might be_ – oh my god.” She stood up quickly, noticing the weary way that Jemma stared at her. Daisy placed her hand on her back when she was close enough, slowly guiding her down the hallway. Just in case. Jemma didn’t seem to want to argue. “Jemma, this is –”

“Terrifying? Crazy? Maybe a tad irresponsible?” She asked, keeping her movements slow and sluggish. Daisy thought that the last time she’d seen Jemma this out of sorts was the week before her wedding, when she had talked her into too many shots. Jemma _had_ insisted on having her purported bachelorette party the week before specifically because she’d known Daisy would, at the very least, try that. So really, it had been on her for going along with it.

It was a bit weird thinking that those similar symptoms spelled a very different conclusion now.

“Amazing.” She corrected, giving her a knowing look. Jemma rolled her eyes fondly. “No, come on. Do you remember when Elena told us she was pregnant? We were all moon eyes for Christopher, and we’ll all be moon eyes for them, too.”

“They were _trying_ , though.” She argued, no heat behind her voice. “We had this conversation like, three months after we started dating but it was always hypothetical. Two, three years down the road hypothetical.”

Daisy let out a soft snort, shaking her head a little as Jemma stepped forward, waving her off. She didn’t look like she was going to pass out in the hallway, which she counted as a win. “If you don’t think that your husband isn’t going to be over the moon…” She shrugged a little. “Then I think we have both met a very different man.”

Jemma nodded, the corners of her lips curving up a little as she dipped her head. Her hands met at her middle, cradling the nonexistent bump. “I know he will be.” She said quietly. “It’s just. It’s so soon. If I’m correct, I’m 5, 6 weeks at most?”

Daisy did the math in her head, somehow disappointed that she wouldn’t have won the bet that would have went on had Mack not put a stop to it. She understood, really. Elena hadn’t told them until she was nearly waddling with every step, although it had made it easier that the three of them had once worked in different areas of SHIELD and that Elena could have hidden that.

The uncertainty was, perhaps, the scariest part of it all. Something so new and so fragile, she knew the need to protect came from deep within. Jemma protected with every piece of her heart, after all.

“I think he’s probably going to catch on if baby pulls a stunt like that again,” she said, making the other woman laugh. Jemma looked fond at the idea, and Daisy wondered if that was the first time she’d heard the word ‘baby’ out loud.

“I think…” she trailed off, looking distantly again as the two of them twisted around the corner. “I think I have to go to the bathroom.” Jemma said suddenly, holding onto Daisy’s shoulder as she did. “Don’t think I forgot about our previous conversation, though. I want details!” Daisy gave her a sympathetic smile as she moved her grip to the handle of the doorknob, and then, holding her other hand to her mouth, rushed in through the door.

She ended up hiding outside the door for too long, trying not to listen to the sounds of the retching, because it made her own stomach feel sort of achy in a weird way, and glaring at anyone who dared to try to come near the door. There were six other bathrooms in this building. Find one.

She was, however, misfortunate enough that Jemma had been true to her word. The moment she stepped out of the bathroom, smelling oddly minty, she was looping her arm through Daisy’s and guiding her back to her office, demanding all of the details.

They made a pack, for the meantime, to tell nobody else about their secrets.

*

“What are you wearing?”

She tossed a look behind her, where he stood in the doorway, already fully dressed, and sighed gently. Daniel moved into the bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed and narrowly avoiding a top that she threw behind her. God, she was literally running out of nice things to wear.

Maybe now that Jemma would actually _need_ clothes, she could convince her to go shopping with her.

“My birthday suit right now.” She replied dryly, fingering another tasteful dress that her foster mother had convinced her to buy two years ago or something. She was sure there was still a stain on it somewhere from the wine she’d spilled, though. She moved on.

He laughed lowly. “I can see that,” he replied, a slight appreciation in his voice. “What happened to the dress you had picked out?” He looked behind him at the small mountain of clothes that had built up. “I thought you liked that?”

“I did. Its just.” She cut herself off with a huff and hauled a new top into the light, wondering if she could pair it with the high waisted jeans she’d bought semi recently because they’d been on clearance. It wouldn’t look too bad, she supposed.

God, why was she so worried about a dinner with friends? Most of the time, it was a comfortable feat to believe that she was actually wearing sweats that just looked nice enough to be proper ‘dress up’ clothing.

She hung up the shirt and moved on, huffing again. They were going to be late, and Jemma was going to hang her. That wasn’t half a bad way to go, she thought, and shook her head.

From the reflection in the mirror, she could see him watching her, a mix of curiosity and confusion in his gaze. “Its just…?” He asked after a minute, treading lightly. He had really liked the dress she’d picked out seventeen outfits ago. She’d found every reason not to like it.

Maybe she _was_ her own worst enemy; trying to make them so late that she as no reason to show up. She grumbled. “Jemma knows.”

“How?” His voice pitched a little, and he cleared his throat. She looked at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we weren’t… telling anyone.” He finished lamely, and she rolled her eyes.

“Because you,” she threw another shirt at him, knowing all too well what they had discussed. “Don’t answer your phone.”

“I’m sorry,” he asked, confusion lacing his statement. “I don’t see the correlation?”

“Jemma texted us all this morning, asking for just a quick ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to dinner, so she could confirm with the restaurant, and you didn’t answer.” She pressed her lips together, placing her hands on her hips as she did. She should be annoyed that he was looking everywhere _but_ her face now, she thought. “And I answered for you, before I even realized what I was doing.”

She watched him connect the dots in his head before nodding thoughtfully. “Come here.” She felt his hand reach out and tug at hers, pulling her across the room and forcing her to focus on something other than her traitorous closet. His arms wrapped around her waist when she was close enough and she draped hers over his shoulders.

To his merit, despite being eye level with her chest, he was looking right up at her.

“So, what level are we at? End of the world or just slightly above that?” He asked, a teasing grin on the corners of his lips. “Should we cancel our dinner plans and move to Alaska or do you think we will be able to face them again?”

She knew what he was doing, and a part of her wanted to groan at how well it was working. She cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together as he tightened his grip. He tilted his chin up and stole a kiss and left her softly grinning in his wake.

“So, Jemma knows.” He commented, more seriously than before. “How do you feel about that?”

She pulled away, shaking her head slowly. “I should be asking you that question, I mean I was the one who –”

“We both decided,” he corrected easily, “to keep it to ourselves.”

Sometimes, she was reminded how easy it was to like him.

“Well, I mean, she didn’t exactly torture the information out of me.” She said quietly, playing with the curled hair at the back of his neck. “I did give it up willingly.”

“Oh wow, and you call yourself a SHIELD agent?” He mock gasped. “And the best of the best at that?”

Daisy laughed, almost feeling like the tension was slipping out of her, no matter how ridiculous that sounded. “Shut up,” she murmured affectionately.

“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.” The reminded warmed her to her very core, and she kissed the tip of his nose as she pulled away slowly, ignoring the pout he made when she did. “Even if Jemma’s already told everyone she knows, and then some.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” she shot back, moving back toward her closet with a little bit less of a grumpy stare. She pulled down one of the dresses that she’d already vetoed and threw it over her arm, pulling her undergarments out of the drawers. “I’ve sworn her to secrecy.”

(For the record, ‘sworn to secrecy’ does not, apparently, count when Jemma finds herself in a slightly stressful situation and lays out all her card for her husband in 30 seconds or less. Daisy supposed that, in retrospect, she should be commending Jemma for keeping both her pregnancy and Daisy’s relationship a secret for a mere twelve hours. She was a terrible liar.)

* * *

_two hundred and fifty nine days before_

The alarm being the first thing that she heard every morning was beginning to get old. From Monday to Friday she suffered every time it went off just as the sun did, but today was worse. Because today was a Saturday.

She groaned, turning her head into his neck as he reached across her to shut it off. “It’s too early,” she let out a pitiful sigh, snuggling in.

He wound his arm around her waist, squeezing her close and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “It’s 9:00AM.” He replied, shifting to kiss the shell of her ear.

She let out another pitiful groan that only caused him to laugh. It was no known secret that she liked her sleep and liked sleeping in more than anything else in the world. Her day-to-day life as an agent often impeded that, but the weekends were supposed to be her golden ticket to freedom.

That was, of course, until they’d promised his mother two months ago that they would all take a weekend trip to his family’s vacation house in the Hamptons.

“I think we need to get up.” He commented after a long while. He must have let her doze back off, because when she peered up and over him, the time on the clock was now 9:30AM. They had about fifteen minutes to get up and start leaving.

Daisy fell back into her position, grumbling quietly. “Can’t you just tell your Mom I’m a bad influence or something?”

“My mother would never believe that. She’s met you.” She let out nothing short of a pitiful sigh, and he laughed again, shaking his head. “And liked you, too,” he added, pressing another kiss to a spot behind her ear that made her shiver. She pulled away, her pout more pronounced, and he kissed it away. She easily sunk into his embrace, allowing herself just a minute or ten more before they did, finally get up.

*

Perhaps it would have been easier to deal with the weekend if it hadn’t ended up raining most of the first day, the sun coming out early and growing cold the second. By the time their final dinner came, Daisy was growing restless.

It wasn’t their fault; she felt like a fish out of water around his mother and sister and brother-in-law. At least Tyler and Sophie seemed to like her, but she’d never really had _this_ growing up. There’d been a couple of times when she had been shuffled into a family house, where the kids were nice and polite and sweet, and it was like every advert for the perfect American family.

But those had been few and far between. For the most part, she’d been juggled between people who weren’t, in her frank opinion, fit to be foster parenting, or people who tried too aggressively hard to get to know her, only to let her go in the end. She’d always found that she hated those people the most. Because they’d been the ones to give her some sliver of hope that there _could_ be a future like that for her.

And then, Coulson and May? They were everything but this. Functional in the way that they taught her all her best tricks and how to live but dysfunctional in every other way.

Daniel’s family, on the other hand, screamed prestige. His father had died when he was still in his twenties, and his mother had inherited what little fortune they had had and made herself a millionaire by the time he turned thirty. She was nice to a fault, but well aware of her station.

She was prideful, and a bit crass, and probably someone that Daisy could grow to adore if she could stop glaring at her every time she spoke. She tucked her attention back into her food and bit down on her tongue. Dinner tonight was dragging particularly slowly. She glanced around the table to see if anyone else felt the same, but except for Tyler, who was tossing his potatoes around, everyone seemed very keen on what the matriarch had to say.

Daisy couldn’t even say that she’d fully had a ‘family’ dinner of this calibre with her own parents. Maybe this was normal.

“I was talking to Judy last night,” Penelope commented over a sip of wine. “She’s very excited about the baby.”

It was easy to forget, in the grand scheme of things, that Fitz’s mother and Daniel’s mother were friends and had been since the two of them were boys. While Daisy, in an objective way, liked Penelope, Judy had a natural warmth to her that seemed to spread to whomever she was speaking with. She was the kind of mother you’d always dreamed of having.

Penelope, however, was not quite that.

“I’m sure she is.” Daniel replied, his tone terse. Daisy’s eyes flickered toward him. “First grandchild and all that. You remember how you were when Sadie was first expecting.”

“It’s the same with every grandchild,” she replied smoothly, glancing between both of her children. “It’s a shame I won’t know that feeling for a while.”

Both siblings shared a look, and Sadie sunk her own comment into a long sip of her chardonnay. Daniel pinked at the ears and began focusing _too_ hard on his steak.

And _oh_ , she knew instantly. This had been a conversation that had come up before. She felt herself flush and disguised it in a sip of her water. She’d forgone the wine tonight, but she was learning to regret that.

Well, that was a can of worms that she hadn’t imagined would need to be opened today.

Penelope leaned over the table, wine sloshing around her glass as she did. She stuck up her nose when some of it landed on the table but made no move to clean it up. “What about you, dear?” She asked, and it took a moment for Daisy to even realize she was staring right at her.

She felt herself flush and tightened her grip on her fork.

“Mom, please,” Daniel cut in before she had the chance to answer, which in a small way was a miracle. Her eyes flickered to him, and Daisy watched as he straightened up a little more, catching Penelope’s gaze. Any semblance of embarrassment had filtered away from his features, and she silently thanked him for cutting _that_ conversation short. “The night is still young, let’s not ruin it, shall we?”

*

“Sorry about my mother.” It was the first thing he said to her when he finally joined her out in the backyard. Daisy smiled slightly and shifted, letting him slip behind her in the reclining chair. She pulled the blanket she’d confiscated outside when she’d been relieved of dishes duty up over them both and settled back into the crook of his neck. “She can be a lot.”

She let out a light laugh, gaze lowering when he knotted their fingers together in her lap. “Wait until you meet May,” she murmured softly. “She’s just scary. And knows how to use a sword.”

“Oh?” He didn’t sound remotely surprised, and she wasn’t sure why that made her laugh, but it did. “Will I be meeting her soon?”

The topic seemed weird, even to her, because May had never met any of her boyfriends – not even Lincoln, and there had been a point in Daisy’s life when she had started letting herself entertain the idea of a future with him.

And yet, here she was, _considering_ that possibility.

“They usually take a couple weeks in July to come back from their extended vacation slash retirement,” Daisy murmured, shivering a little as a cold breeze moved in from off the water. He rubbed up and down the length of her arm, and she kissed the underside of his chin. “So, I mean, probably.”

She didn’t ignore the way that idea made her whole body feel warm, despite the cooling air. She shifted, laying her head against the back of the chair and twisting to catch his gaze. He stared out at the marina before another moment, letting out a sigh as he turned toward her.

Daniel hesitated for only a moment before pressing a lasting kiss to her forehead, the motion warming up the rest of her all at once. God, she thought that she might just love him. And that thought frightened her and fulfilled her all at once.

“You think she’ll like me?” He asked after he pulled away, and when she opened her eyes and looked up at him from underneath her lashes, he was watching her with a fondness that took her off guard. She couldn’t ever remember someone looking at her the way he did.

She rested her head back into the crook of his neck, squeezing her hand around his and inhaled the scent of salt water, dish detergent and _him_.

“I think she’ll love you.”

* * *

_two hundred days before_

Daisy stared up at the top of the multi-story apartment building from her perch, imagining all the days when she had stared down from that height, watching the kids and their parents. She’d spent some of the best of her years in one of those apartments and she hadn’t been aware of it then. She’d been too busy focusing all of her energy on not making the situation work, because it was easier to think that it couldn’t rather than put in the time on the off chance that it could.

Sometimes, she was blissfully aware that she was indebted to her adopted parents. They’d never given up on her, even in the times when she’d given up on herself.

And for times like those, she always found her way back to the playground. It didn’t matter the time of year, or the situation, being there felt like home. It had all the comforts; she remembered fondly the few times that she had snuck out after they’d decided to adopt her just two short months into her stay with them, the way that one of them would always find her there.

Always remind her that she had a home; it always made her feel a little closer to them.

Which was, she knew, ridiculous. May didn’t let her go more than four days without calling her, and if on the fourth day she didn’t answer, she called in the SHIELD SWAT team to investigate.

(Yes, unfortunately, that had happened before. That _wasn’t_ common knowledge.)

“It’s nice here.”

She jumped, momentarily forgetting that she hadn’t been alone, and that the two of them had been sitting in some wavelength between comfortable-and-uncomfortable silence while she got lost in her thoughts.

Daisy smiled once she recuperated, nodding lightly. It was a bit weird to have someone else here with her, but he hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer when he’d called earlier that day and spoken to her for only a handful of minutes before realizing the kind of day she was having.

It had been his idea to go somewhere, take her mind off the pressures of work and life and what this day meant to her. “Pick a time, and a place, and I’ll be there,” he’d told her, and there’d been something so gentle in the way he’d said it that it had nearly broken her resolve all at once.

She hadn’t known her mother. Aside from one visit, she didn’t really even know who she was. That didn’t make this day any easier to deal with. As much as she honored May and Coulson for every sacrifice they’d made for her, and giving her the best second half of her life that she could have asked for, it didn’t erase the hollow hole that her birth mother had taken with her when she had lost her battle with her own demons.

There were things she would never know, things that would forever haunt her until her dying days, she thought, but with very year that passed, she became more and more certain that they would get easier to deal with. Like now, for instance, with him there, watching her with a gentle curiosity and kind eyes and a warm heart, holding her hand in the distance between the two swings and genuinely wanting to listen to anything and everything she had to say, no matter how nonsensical it all was.

“It’s my safe place,” she told him quietly, the confession sounding foreign as it came out of her own mouth. Jemma knew, of course, although she’d never been there physically. Daisy would disappear some days, sit on the swing and stare up at that building and remember the good times when the bad seemed to take over. “I thought May was going to kill me if I wandered down here one more time after midnight when I was a kid, though,” she added, her laughter light as she dipped her head, digging her heels into the sand below her.

Daniel watched her, still, his eyes too soft and smile too warm. She didn’t know how to deal with someone who looked at her with such a beautiful concentration the way that he did. It felt too foreign, but not in a bad way. It felt like he genuinely cared for her, and aside from her friends and her parents, she hadn’t had that ever. Not in that way that she’d imagined someone should.

“You talk very fondly of them.” He commented gently, squeezing his hand around hers. She rubbed the pad of her thumb along his. “Your parents, I mean.”

She couldn’t say that she thought that they were particularly strict people because they weren’t. May had been the one to bring her to get her first tattoo, though she thought that might have been her trying to call her bluff, but Daisy had simply stared her down throughout the whole ordeal.

She had her birthday in Mandarin on her hip, or so that was what she’d been told. She would not doubt that May mislead her to teach her a lesson.

“They’re genuinely good people,” she smiled, lifting her gaze back to his. “I feel bad for them now, as an adult, having to deal with me.” She laughed dryly, kicking at the ground. In truth, she’d been doing a lot of it to get a rise, to get herself sent back and live the rest of her miserable days in the orphanage until she was emancipated at eighteen; they’d never given her a chance.

She thanked them, now, but at the time, she’d been too pissed to see that they were doing what was best for her.

“Ah, nonsense.” He teased, keeping his tone light. She had told him bits and pieces about her past before. It had begun with the parts she had thought to be safe enough to share and flourished from there the more that she trusted him. And he’d listened intently with each story, the kind of intensity that she hadn’t quite expected from someone who, truly, owed her and her story nothing. “You could have been me. I used to pickpocket strangers on Wall Street. I thought my old man was going to kill me.”

Daisy stopped, bouncing around what he had just said in her head for a beat longer before her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Oh? I’m dealing with a petty criminal?” She let out a shocked laugh that only made him pink at the cheeks, though he had to know there was no heat behind her words. “You think you know someone.” She said, shaking her head lightly; the amusement never faltered.

“It wasn’t that bad.” He argued, though the stiffness in his frame as he recounted the memory seemed to say otherwise. “My old man would hear about it because my friends had loud mouths and make me return them.” He cringed, nose wrinkling as he looked at her and she found it particularly difficult to not laugh, perhaps incredulously, in that moment. “Never let me go the easy way, either, always made me knock on the door and tell them exactly what I’d done.”

Daisy stared as he groaned and _balked_. She knew that, really, in the grand scheme of things, this was a fairly victimless crime. Hacking was often the same way – she didn’t hack into banking details of people who were struggling to pay rent; she’d Robin Hooded. She doubted that him and his friends had been doing anything other than buying crappy nudey magazines and Doritos with their loot, anyway.

“I’d say that is harsh, but I think May probably would have done something very similar.” Actually, she thought, May probably would have been worse. She was kind to a fault and very open about a lot of things, but she could almost picture the scenario he’d laid out with her own adopted mother. It made her whole body feel cold.

“Discipline is good.” He agreed, although his cheeks were still pink with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. “I stopped hanging out with those kids not long afterward and changed my life around. I was lucky nobody ever pressed charges.”

Just as she was ‘lucky’ to have a pair of SHIELD Agents as her parents, she supposed.

“What a pair,” she murmured contemplatively. “I used to hack government agencies, and you pickpocketed people.”

He stopped then, peering up at her with a visible confusion filtering through his features. “You used to hack government agencies?”

 _Oh_. She thought gently, dragging her tongue along her lower lip – a nervous habit of hers, now. _That was a new story, huh_?

“How did you think SHIELD found me?” She asked finally, her voice the picture of faux innocence.

“I figured…” His eyebrows furrowed, still processing exactly what she had just dropped in his lap. “Your parents were SHIELD, weren’t they?”

Daisy laughed, nodding as she tilted her head to lean against the chain. “And I was the demon non-biological off-spring.” She murmured, matter-of-fact.

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head lightly. “I can’t believe you never told me this story.”

“Me neither.” She confessed; she thought that had been her introduction into SHIELD – _Hey, this is the kid who just hacked into our interface and changed our logo to Agents of Furbies_ – so maybe most of the people there just knew her by reputation now. “I’m actually pretty fond of that memory, all things considered.” Maybe not the aftermath, but staring at her creation had been the best kind of reward. “I’ll never forget Coulson’s face when SHIELD showed up because I’d hacked into their system and then the Agents face when he realized where he was.”

“I can only imagine. If that were my Dad…” He rolled the thought around in his head contemplatively. “I probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. He would have let them lock me up.”

“Coulson was mad, but May was _mad_.” She shuddered at the memory, although Agent Furbson was, frankly, some of her best work to date, whether or not they agreed. “Thought I would finally see her lose it, but instead she gave me the silent treatment which, trust me, is worse.”

He squeezed his hand around hers, a sign of sympathy in his features, and he nodded briskly. A part of her wondered if Penelope was like that, too. She did seem like the type, but perhaps not in the same well-meaning way that May had been. He stared distantly for a second before coming back to himself, blinking gently in her direction, grinning when he noticed she’d been watching him.

She smiled softly when he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss along the back of her knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

For a brief moment, she had forgotten why they were here in the first place, and there was something so inexplicable about that that stopped her in her tracks. Daisy had spent most of her life living through the same cycle of this day. Wake up, eat enough to survive through the day, and go back to living tomorrow as though the day before hadn’t happened.

It had been a number of years for her to even grasp the concept that she couldn’t let herself dwell on it. She couldn’t be the person who let her entire life rely on a few missing pieces. She wouldn’t.

And yet, for the first time in all the years that she’d been coming here, there was a brief moment where she’d been happy and laughing and there’d been a taste of better just on the cusp. He might not know or understand the gravity of the situation or his involvement, or at the very least, might not want to own it, but she did.

Oh god, she did.

“I love you.”

She didn’t know how long they sit there after she spoke, but in her head it’s a millennium, maybe two. And all she could do was watch him, feel the uneven beating of her heart and know that she couldn’t take it back.

Not that she wanted to, she thought. She didn’t want to at all.

He dropped her hand, and she felt her heart drop, too, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her stop for just a second, made the train that was waiting to take off pause. He stood up, kneeling on the ground before her and she followed his every movement, heart in her hand. And then he cupped both of her cheeks in his hands and brought her into a bruising kiss.

All of the uncertainty slipped away like water running down her, and she let out a soft choke of a sob as he pulled away. Their foreheads knocked together a little too sharply, and they both let out the softest laughs in the distance between them. She was the first to pull back, to catch his gaze and try to figure out what he was thinking in that moment. He silenced all of her thoughts with one slow swipe of his thumb along her cheek bone.

“I love you,” he murmured gently, the corners of his lips curving up ever so slightly. “I think I have since the moment we met.”

The honesty, the conviction, the unflinching gaze. She stared deep into his deep hues and knew, in that moment, she was absolutely, royally, and completely fucked. But she didn’t mind it one bit.

She sunk lower, catching his lower lip between her too, and inevitably pushed them both onto the sand below them when she lost her balance just a moment later.

For the record, neither seemed to mind.

* * *

_ninety one days before_

“You are so little.” She thought it might have been the only thing she’d been able to say in nothing short of a short while, but she’s in true awe. Sure, she’d seen Jemma just that morning when she had declared that she was going to get Rosie out one way or another, but it had been the determined speak of a tired woman.

She hadn’t thought she’d actually been serious, or that the daughter of two stubborn assholes would actually listen.

“You’re hogging her,” Hunter said from the corner, and Daisy beamed. She thought it was her right as her godmother. “Come on, let the little squirt meet her Uncle.”

It’s a bit awkward to pass her over, but Rosie doesn’t fuss much once she’s laid in Hunter’s arms. He sits at the edge of the bed, and Daisy is sure nobody misses the relieved sigh that Jemma lets out when she knows he’s more secure with their daughter.

It doesn’t escape anyone that Hunter _would_ be the one to accidentally drop her. Daisy watches Bobbi glare at him from the side of the room. Ah, trouble in paradise again.

Daisy settles back again, tucking her head into his neck, and his arm tightens around her waist, laying on her lap. Out of habit, she knots their fingers together and listens to his soft hum. Daniel presses a kiss to her temple, and she grins, although her eyes never leave the soft and tiny infant.

It isn’t long, though, before the baby was wailing. For such a small being, she already had such a great set of lungs on her. The noise jolted Daisy, who pressed her lips into a sympathetic smile as a panicked look crossed Hunter’s face, who was on the verge of crying for another reason, now.

“Give her here,” Jemma said softly, tiredly. “She’s hungry.”

Rosie was passed back to her mother and Jemma began undoing the front of her gown. Hunter made a sound of disgust as Daisy stood slowly. Hunter moved out of the room of his own free will, calling a “congrats, sis!” on his way out. Bobbi isn’t far after him, though she offered more than just the gentle call away on her way out of the door.

“Surprisingly, that’s not even the most I’ve seen of Jemma today,” she laughed as she moved toward the bed, kissing Fitz and Jemma’s cheeks and brushing her hand over the back of Rosie’s head as she latched. “We’ll give you guys some space. But I will be here tomorrow morning, bright and early, to harangue the nurses until they free you from this prison.”

Jemma let out a tiny laugh that disturbed the latch, and Rosie made a whining sound before finding the nipple again. She suckled happily, quiet once more.

Daisy rolled her eyes, a comment about the kid’s hunger already on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. “Bye Daddy, Bye Mama! Thanks for not breaking my hand today!” She grinned, ignoring the twin glares that she got in response.

She knew neither of them meant it.

As soon as they were outside, Daniel laced their fingers together, and she let herself be tugged into his side, humming thoughtfully. The two walked sluggishly toward the end of the elevator. He twisted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “So, you’re going to come and cause mayhem tomorrow?” He asked teasingly. “Should I be worried?”

She let out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand in hers. “I’ve already checked, she can be discharged anytime after 8:00am tomorrow.” She told him calmly, keeping her voice light.

“And you’re going to crawl out of bed and be here for 8:00am?” He was calling her bluff, and she turned her nose into his shoulder as she let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

“I mean. Probably not, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?” She asked when she pulled away, poking her tongue between her teeth. He nodded, probably for her own benefit.

Neither of them _actually_ thought she was going to be crawling out of bed before noon on a Saturday of all days. Let alone to make her way across town to stage a jailbreak. Rosie’s birth had gone by smoothly. There was no reason for her to be kept in any longer than the initial night’s stay that seemed to be synonymous of a hospital birth.

“Do you ever think about it?” She twisted toward him, arching an eyebrow. “Having kids?”

Oh. She hadn’t been expecting that. Without meaning to, she took a step away, giving herself some necessary space. He didn’t try to reel her back in; he knew the difference by now. She hated that, suddenly.

“Oh yeah. Every day. I used to love watching them when I was in between foster homes.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone because he knew that, too. Before she’d been taken in at age fourteen, she’d bounced between eighteen different foster homes. None of them had wanted her. And yeah, sure, she’d found her forever home in the end, but it was different.

He had a loving family; his parents were great, and his sister was great and the whole brood of them were fucking great. She had childhood abandonment issues and a fear of letting anyone too close. What a pair.

“I’m being serious.” He replied, his tone sharper than normal, but still soft; still unmistakeably him. She clenched her jaw, dragging her tongue along the back of her teeth as she twisted, looking ahead. The elevator seemed so far away.

“Maybe one day?” It’s not a dismissal, but it’s not an agreement either. “I really like the dynamic of being able to give the screaming baby back to it’s mother right now, though. I’ll admit it.”

She tried to joke to ease the tension filled within her. He hadn’t backed down, but she hadn’t expected him to. She’d never gotten to _this_ conversation in a relationship. Even with Lincoln, with whom she’d spent two and a half years with, they’d never talked about a future. A house, marriage, kids, and maybe a dog or two. That had never been her life. He’d met her adopted parents, and she knew that she had a lot of her stability to credit exclusively to them, but it didn’t erase the years she’d spent in the system.

“A proper night’s sleep, too. Did you see how tired they already looked? She’s not even a day old yet.” She smiled, pushing away the thoughts in her head. They wouldn’t do her any good festering.

“That gets better.” He seemed to reason, and she couldn’t argue with that. She knew all babies grew out of that stage eventually. She felt something twist in her chest, something that she couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you hungry?” She steered the subject quickly, before this became a Thing. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt right now, but it wasn’t great. “Let’s go get something from the diner beside my apartment, yeah?”

“Okay. Yeah.” She pressed the button on the elevator, letting out a soft sigh as it popped open, moving in first and catching his eye. “Sure.”

She didn’t miss the sound of disappointment in his tone.

* * *

_the day of_

It was a Sunday, and they’d both woken up early, and maybe that was a part of why they were arguing now. Neither of them had been sleeping well lately. Daisy blamed work, for the unrealistic amount of stress she was putting herself under to try and avoid the obvious.

But the obvious had spilled over this morning. And there they were, face-to-face, in the midst of yet another argument. And the worst part about it was that he didn’t even try to argue back. He rarely did. He could cite sources and facts and go up against everything she had to argue with, but it wasn’t the same.

Daniel didn’t yell at her for anything. And maybe that should be a good thing, but God knows she was enough of a piss off that he should want to. She was such a wreck. She couldn’t believe that a part of her actually _wanted_ him to be pissed off with her.

“So, our relationship is a bit slower than everyone else’s,” he said, chasing after her as she wandered into the living room. “Fitz and Jemma took just as long and look at them!”

“Fitz-Simmons are fucking perfect. Like literally perfect. I’ve never seen two people more in sync in my life. But they’re not –”

“Us?”

“No!” She cried, throwing her hands up. “I’m a fucking mess, Daniel. I can’t even cook Mr. Noodles without burning them and you want me to try and raise a kid?”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” He sounded exhausted, and she didn’t blame him. God, she was fucking exhausted. “We haven’t talked about this in months.”

“No. I mean. Maybe?” She huffed out her frustration and bit down on her tongue. “But it’s still something you want, isn’t it?” She asked, the question sounding more like an accusation as it came out of her lips. He looked at her, drained and confused.

“Eventually, sure. But only when you know what you want. Cross that bridge when we get to it, right?” He tried to reason. She couldn’t imagine why he wanted to _reason_ with her right now. At this point, any of her other boyfriends would have been long gone, but for some stubborn reason, he still standing there, still trying to _reason_ with her.

God, he was so infuriating. She grits her teeth together. How could he be so fucking calm when she’s in the middle of losing her mind? “I don’t know what I want!” She cried, moving closer to him. He didn’t even flinch. “Shouldn’t that, I don’t know, make you mad? We’ve been dating for well over a year. Most people by now are well planning their futures and I don’t even know what I want to do tomorrow!”

“Daisy.” He replied, too calmly. It only made her angrier. God, she hated when she got angry. She always felt like she was just on the cusp of breaking down. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips and inviting him to go on.

“You’re trying to push me away.” He replied, and it was the first time she’d heard anything other than calmness come from his tone. It was a sharp statement, an accusation, and she puffed her chest up in response. “You’re just waiting for the day that I walk out that door and don’t come back. I’ve practically had a best before date since well before we even started this thing.”

She deflated at that, stopping and staring at him. She thought she was shaking, but maybe that was just the blurriness of her vision confusing her. “Do not turn this on me. I’m not the one who came into this relationship with unrealistic expectations.”

“Unrealistic expec–” he scoffed, a look of incredulity on his face as he stared at her. “This is the natural progression of a healthy relationship, which is something I thought we had up until today.” He threw up his hands in defeat. “How much more have you been keeping from me?” He asked, his voice quiet and sad. “Do you even want me to stay?”

Arguably, he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she didn’t say that lightly. Daisy wasn’t perfect, she was probably one of the most disorganized people she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. She cussed like a sailor, loved too hard and too much, couldn’t keep her life together on a good day, didn’t know how to cook and cleaned at the bare minimum. Would wear the same outfit for three days straight if she could get away with it. This was who she was. She had never presented herself as anything else.

But he’d still accepted her despite all that. He’d taken her to a fucking cooking class and done most of the work but made sure that she’d learned enough to feel like they weren’t doing this all for his benefit. He’d make sure she ate when she was at work, because he knew that she had a bad habit of getting too involved in whatever case she was working on at the time and would let the hours slip by. He’d helped her set up schedules and build together some format of a life.

He’d loved her despite everything that she was, and helped her in every way that he could, and adored her for all of her broken pieces, and the thought struck her in that moment that he shouldn’t have to do any of that.

He would be a great father, a great husband; he was already a great man. And she didn’t think she would ever be anything more than what she was.

“I don’t know what I want,” she repeated quietly, feeling her heart squeeze in her chest at the confession.

That was truly all either of them needed.

* * *

_one hundred and three days after_

The sun was too hot for September, but she basked in it. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jemma apply another layer of sunscreen on Rosie’s soft skin and let out a soft sigh, tapping her friend on the arm.

“She’s going to slip out of your arms if you keep it up,” she said dryly, ignoring the brief flash of a glare that Jemma sends her way. Daisy knows better than to interfere with her over-protective Mama Bear setting, because she knows how much both she and Fitz care for that little girl. It’s all out of love.

After a moment, Rosie begins reaching for her and if it’s not the sweetest thing ever, she doesn’t know what is. Jemma rubs some sunscreen over her face, ignoring the soft whimper that Rosie makes in response before letting Daisy take hold of the squirming five-month-old.

Rosie immediately settles in her arms, the picture of tranquility as Daisy blows a raspberry along the apple of her cheek and grins at the sound of her laughter. Fitz and Simmons did a fantastic job.

She could hear chatter before she saw the source, and immediately reminded herself that she promised that it wouldn’t be weird for anybody in the aftermath. Especially not Fitz and Simmons, who were each their best friend.

But this was the first time that they’ve been in the same room in three months. She can’t help but watch him from underneath her lashes, walking alongside Fitz and Hunter, who was sans Bobbi.

(They’re off again, of course.)

The three of them are carrying some overpriced Scottish Lager that Fitz and Hunter seem to be enjoying. She can’t help but remember that he’s not one for alcohol, and likely grabbed it just to be nice. Not wanting to cause a scene, much like she was now.

She blows another raspberry along Rosie’s cheek, relishing in the cackle that the baby lets out before she lays against Daisy’s chest, content to remain there. She snuggles right back, ignoring the feeling that settles in her stomach the first time their eyes meet.

Daisy turns her head immediately, ignoring the pointed look that Elena gives her when she turns her way. It’s nothing. Today was Jemma’s birthday. Surely, they can handle a couple of hours in the same room, even if Hunter and Bobbi cannot.

Christopher steps closer, much easier on his steps than he was the last time Daisy saw him, and much cuter. “Can I have some juice, pease, Mama?” He asks in the gentlest of voices, holding up his sippy cup.

“Of course, niño.” Elena immediately reaches for the pitcher on the table, pulling off his lid with one hand and filling it with the other. The little boy makes grabby hands at it before she’s even finished, and she shushes him away with a quick kiss on his nose, which distracts him long enough that she can secure the lid and remind him to hold it with both hands as he waddles away.

She slides closer to her, and Daisy doesn’t miss the questioning look that Mack sends them both, but thankfully, he doesn’t press. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asks her in a low voice, moving to brush an errant curl from Rosie’s head. The little girl grabs her finger in response and Elena smiles.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Daisy answered pointedly, perhaps a little too defensively for the given situation. Elena let out a scoff. “We’re adults, and life happens. We can handle this for a couple of hours.”

“You’re allowed to feel pain, Daisy.” The other woman reminded her, and the sentence alone sat straight in the pit of her stomach, with the other undiagnosed feelings resting there. She sighed gently. “What I mean is… It’s okay to not want to.”

Elena didn’t elaborate on what she meant, but Daisy already knew. She swallowed a little, her gaze shifting to his inadvertently. She felt a flush run through her when she realized that he was staring back, too.

In an ideal world, maybe they would have been better at communication; maybe he wouldn’t have left, maybe she would have stopped him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought that she’d heard he was seeing someone else. She wonders why his gaze still burns the way that it does. 

She shifted as Rosie did, looking up at her with the softest brown eyes. Rosie was so quiet, so gentle, so like her parents. The young girl grabbed for a strand of hair that Daisy narrowly managed to pull out of the way, kissing the tip of her nose to distract her.

She didn’t have to look up to know that he was still watching her, even though she could hear him sharing stories with Hunter and Fitz. Mack had joined in, too, when Rosie began to fuss quietly, reaching toward Jemma. Daisy relinquished her hold, following the movement until Rosie reached toward her Dad.

The look on Jemma’s face was priceless.

“I’m second fiddle to my own daughter,” she said in admonishment, though they all knew that wasn’t the case. Rosie was a social butterfly in her own right; she wanted to be in the middle of their conversation. It wasn’t long before the men were talking in soft, hushed, voices to her and she was eating up all the attention.

Daisy laughed, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. She found herself watching as Daniel reached over, lightly gripping one of the little girl’s hands and swallowed before quickly shifting her attention to Jemma, who was watching her with a quiet curiosity. “She does not get that from either of you,” she said pointedly. Elena laughed quietly behind her.

*

The night dwindled on, the warm summer sun setting and the moon rolling up slowly. Daisy found herself at the edge of the Fitz-Simmons’ property, looking up at the stars. In her arms, Rosie had fallen asleep against her chest. She let out soft snuffling sounds in her sleep that warmed her in a different way than what she was used to.

It wasn’t that Daisy had never been fond of babies before her friends started popping them out, but just that her affection had been in a rather detached way. She could look at a child in the grocery store and think, idly, that they were cute, but not that she actually wanted to entertain the idea of interacting them.

Right now, Rosie and Christopher were the only exceptions, although if Elena’s soft eyes as she watched the younger girl were to speak for anything, Daisy didn’t imagine that they were going to be the _only_ exceptions for much longer.

She heard footsteps in the gravel behind her and froze suddenly, shifting the blanket around Rosie a little tighter. Even without turning around, she knew who was there. After all these months, he still smelled the same, still wore that shitty cologne that she’d liked to bury her nose in anyway, because the smell was remarkably him.

She swallowed, leaning the top of her head against Rosie’s as he moved to stand beside her. “Jemma sent me out to check on her.” He asked, in a faux casual tone, looking down at Rosie, who shifted in her sleep ever so slightly, as though she knew they were talking about her. Daisy somehow doubted that _she_ was the only one that Jemma sent him out to check on. “Also, Mack and Elena are about to head out. I thought I’d let you know.”

Daisy wanted to roll her eyes, knowing all too well what kind of a set up this was, but she restrained herself. She nodded briskly, catching the tail end of a shooting star when she looked back up at the sky. If that wasn’t an omen for her life, she wasn’t sure what was.

“How’s… what’s her face?” The moment it slipped out of her mouth, she wanted to shove it back in. She looked away, shaking her head as she turned toward the back of the house. “I’m sorry. Just… forget I said anything.” She murmured, moving toward the house when he caught her arm. She froze, still looking forward.

“You… You’ve got a lot of nerve.” His voice was quiet, strained, and _hurt_. She grit her teeth together, letting out a slow, shaky sigh. “You can’t do that. You can’t be mad at _me_. You’re the one who wanted me to leave.”

Daisy hesitated for a moment, tightening her grip on Rosie before she turned around, looking up at him. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but the crane her neck had to make to look him in the eye felt unfamiliar. “I know. I was there.” She said softly.

His nostrils flared as he let out a sharp breath that turned into a dry laugh, and she wanted to laugh, too, but there was no humor in this situation. Not the one that they’d built for themselves. She thought about all the time that she’d woken up in his arms and thought that was exactly where she’d wanted to be for the rest of her days. Those days seemed like such a distant memory.

Even more so now, when he was right there, and yet still feeling as though he were hundreds of miles away. But a part of her knew that she had a lot to do with the separation between them.

“I just…” he sighed, resigned. “I don’t know what you want from me, Daisy. I’ve given you space, I’ve given you everything that you’ve wanted and yet that’s still not enough?” He held up his hands in defeat.

It only occurred to her then that he hadn’t denied her statement about his maybe-new-girlfriend, and suddenly, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was ridiculous; she’d been the one to end their relationship. She had no claim on him now.

“What do you want from _me_?” She asked, her voice a pitch too loudly. “You should be fucking happy that you don’t have to deal with my ‘mess’ anymore, shouldn’t you?”

The look on his face was a mix of emotions that floated past his face in a matter of moments, and he opened his mouth to argue with her when a splitting cry fell between them. Rosie was awake.

Daisy panicked, hoisting her to lay on her shoulder as she rubbed her back slowly, but she doubted it would be that easy to calm her back down. The whisper-shouting had no doubt disturbed her. When she turned to walk away and thus, back inside, Jemma was already at the door, watching them both with a hard stare.

“Jemma,” Daisy sighed, moving toward her, but the other woman was already padding bare foot out on the grass, taking her daughter into her arms. Rosie rubbed her eyes and began wailing; a combination of sleepiness and the abrupt wake up. “I’m sorry.”

“Mack and Elena are leaving,” she said curtly, keeping her voice soothing despite the daggers she was glaring in their direction. Daisy felt something twist in her chest. Jemma turned sharply toward the house.

“Jemma,” Daniel tried, his voice a stark contrast to the tone he’d just been giving _her_. It sounded much more like the man she’d known, not the man she’d morphed him into.

She stopped suddenly, turning on her heel to look at them both. There wasn’t a glimmer of anything but anger in her gaze, but she somehow managed to keep her voice level. “No.” She began simply, curtly. “I asked for one night. Just one.” She shook her head, bouncing a little to try and calm Rosie’s sudden restlessness.

Daisy’d known that they’d been tiptoeing around them both since the break-up. It hadn’t taken a genius to put two and two together. She couldn’t recall the last time that she’d even heard his name brought up in casual conversation. He was Fitz’s best friend, it would make sense for him, too. Come to think about it, she doesn’t recall seeing many photos of him, either, but she’d always chalked that up to Rosie taking over ever inch of their lives.

She was beginning to connect the dots in her head. She sighed.

“We’ll talk later.” Jemma finally said, looking straight at Daisy when she said it, and that look was always something that incited fear in her. She wasn’t the one to be genuinely afraid of her soft ass best friend, but God, Jemma had a mean streak that only the unlucky were privileged to have to deal with.

The door shut behind her loudly and left the two of them standing out in the cooling Autumn air. Daisy crossed her arms over her chest, blinking back the tears that had been on the brim since they’d begun talking, and were now threatening to spill out more quickly than ever.

She shook her head and moved toward the back door, tightening her cardigan around her as she did. She stopped short when she heard him call out her name, looking down at the ground.

“Can we just…” She shook her head slowly. “Let’s go say goodbye to Mack and Elena.” She said, giving him little choice as she moved toward the door, opening it and up and holding it open behind her. She could hear his hesitance without looking his way.

But still, as he always did, he followed behind her without question. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost too quietly for her to pick out. “Okay.”

* * *

_one hundred and fourteen days after_

Rosie was never usually this antsy, she thought as she paced back and forth, bouncing lightly to keep the girl occupied. She was pulling at her hair and her shirt, sobbing freely and doing everything that she could to _not_ chew on the teething guard that Jemma had told her was in the freezer.

She didn’t want to sit down. She didn’t want to be up. She didn’t want to be held. She wanted attention.

Daisy was on the verge of losing it, she thought. She laid Rosie back in her bouncer, guiding the teether to her aching gums and let out a sigh of relief when the baby chewed on it thoughtfully, silence filling up the house. If only for a moment.

Jemma had asked her the week before if she could watch her for just a couple of hours – the girl that they’d originally hired had had an important exam and she was so worried about it, but the two of them had already had reservations and plans.

So, she’d agreed. Partially because she’d thought it would be _easy_. She should have known after dealing with Fitz-Simmons before marriage that there would be no such thing as easy with their offspring. It wasn’t something that Rosie could be genetically coded with.

She sunk onto the couch, looking down at the happy baby. It was all a farce, she thought. Rosie was normally such a kind and pleasant baby. Always smiling and giggling – giggling, since learning how to do it, was her favorite thing – but since she’d begun teething, she had long periods of times, sometimes days, like this.

It was just Daisy’s unfortunate luck that she had decided to babysit on one of those days.

And that wasn’t to say that Jemma hadn’t offered to rearrange her whole schedule just because she’d known how much her daughter could be on these days, but she had reassured her friend that she would be more than fine, and that the two of them could handle just about anything. She was starting to think that the youngest Fitz-Simmons had taken that as a challenge.

“Are we good for a bit?” She asked, looking over at the baby as she grinned around the teething ring. She loved that kid. Even when she was bordering on being a menace.

It was less than half an hour later before Rosie had begun exercising her lungs again, and no amount of bouncing or replacing her teether would settle her down. She even tried feeding her some of the gushy food mix that Jemma swore up and down was her favorite, and that had led to nothing but frustrated tears from them both.

She supposed that was how she’d managed to seemingly black out, call the all-too-familiar number and come to just as the front door opened and closed and the figure walked in on the two of them with an increasing amount of confusion and worry. He walked in wordlessly, taking Rosie from her grasp and pressing her back to his chest, where he guided the teether back into her mouth until her cries subsided and she suckled woefully.

“Have you tried Children’s Tylenol?” He murmured, brushing Rosie’s errand curls out of her face as she looked up at him. “Or rubbing her gums? That always worked with Sophie.”

There was a list of ways that Jemma had rattled out when she was on her way out, and Daisy crossed her arms over her chest as she ran through them all. She felt foolish now, letting her frustration win over when she’d been so convinced that she could handle it.

She had handled it for the most part, at least.

“No,” she murmured, gently brushing the back of her hand along Rosie’s cheek. The girl leaned against her palm, obviously in pain. It made her heart hurt, even though she knew it was only temporary, and she’d be back to being the bubbly energy they all knew. “It’s been barely two hours since they left, and she’s spent most of that time crying. I don’t think I’ve been able to think much beyond that.”

He nodded slowly, adjusting his hold on Rosie ever so slightly. She whined a little but settled back. “Go find the Tylenol, and we’ll try that first. Whatever we can’t figure out between us, Google has answers to.”

She was suddenly reminded why she’d loved him so much. Why she still did.

That thought hit her as suddenly as it came in, and she ducked away quickly while it rolled around in her head, the omnipresent reminder it was, and fixed together a small dosage of the children’s liquid Tylenol that had been left for dire circumstances. When she returned, he’d shed his coat and had Rosie facing him now, perched on his knee while she laughed at the faces that he was making.

She stopped in the entrance of the room, still holding the dropper in one hand and one had cupped underneath it to catch any wayward drops. For a moment, she allowed herself to watch the two interact, listen to the soft and gentle voice he reserved for only her.

She let herself yearn.

And then, just as fast as the moment started, it was over. He twisted toward her, as though sensing that she had been standing there, and offered her the slightest quirk of his lips as he looked down at the squirming baby on his knee.

“Hey, hey.” He flipped her around quickly, pulling the teether away from her for just a moment. “Auntie Daisy’s got something that’ll make you feel real better, but we have to be a good girl and sit still for her, yeah?”

She took that as her cue to step forward, and she knelt, pushing the dropper between the little one’s lips. Rosie made a face as it touched her taste buds, but thankfully didn’t spit any up. The moment that Daniel released her hand, the teether was back in her mouth. Daisy nudged the edge with the back of her hand, checking to see that it was still cold enough, and rubbed her hand along the baby’s cheek with a sigh.

“At least she’s not screaming,” she murmured, feeling a little defeated all the same. How could he just swoop in and save the day the way that he had?

Daisy stood up, slinking back into the couch, tucking a leg underneath her. She rubbed the back of her neck as she leaned against the back of the couch, watching them both quietly. Rosie gripped one of his fingers with her free hand, but otherwise was content and quiet. She knew it was impossible for it to have worked so quickly, but she was grateful that she seemed to be a little more at peace.

“Thank you.” She said after a long moment of silence, needing to kill it because the entire thing made her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t good at silence. He knew that. “I think she’s calmed down now. I didn’t even think about the fact that you were probably busy. I should have asked or at least just asked for advice instead and –”

“Daisy.” His voice stopped her midsentence, and she twisted upward after a moment of hesitance. She tilted her gaze upward, still struck with the honesty and sincerity that seemed to be permanent residents in his own. “I’m here because I want to be.”

The candor still took her off guard and took her breath away simultaneously. She wasn’t sure what it was about him, but he _was_ different from anyone she’d ever met before. He was open and kind and loving, things that seemed so vastly different from what she was used to but welcomed items all the same.

Without thinking too much about it, she erased the distance between their mouths, locking her lips around his lower lip. There was a brief stutter, a moment when she thought her heart might beat out of her chest, and then he lifted the hand not gripping Rosie and cupped the back of her head as he deepened the kiss.

He tasted like cheap beer and licorice. He still smelled like that cheap cologne. The combination was oddly euphoric, and God. She wanted to be lost in this moment forever.

When she pulled away, she hovered for a beat longer, letting the moment sit there where she could still feel it. Letting herself relax in it, relish in it. Breathe it. “That was nice,” she said softly, feeling her heart in her throat as she blinked and met his gaze once more.

Rosie giggled between them, startling them both, and she tore her gaze away from his for a moment, brushing her fingers through the young one’s hair. She seemed in better spirits, but she was beginning to doze off, even just in the slightest.

Daisy lifted her gaze quickly to catch his, a smile that wouldn’t go away tugging at the corners of her mouth as she caught him staring back, just as intently. He had a wild look in his gaze, one that was barely extinguished by their reality.

Rosie let out a tiny whimper when she took the teether from her and laid it on a tissue on the coffee table, but she easily shifted against his chest, dozing off fairly quickly. Neither of them moved for a while, half afraid to wake her.

She curled closer to him, almost out of habit, and she thought that they both might have been holding their breath when she laid her head against his shoulder.

“It’s not so bad,” Daniel whispered, his voice so gentle and warm. She hummed gently.

Daisy looked up at him, nudging his shoulder lightly with her cheek and he grinned boyishly. “Yeah, they’re always cute when they’re asleep.” She murmured, though there wasn’t the same heat in her voice that once had been.

“So are you, to be fair.” He murmured, his cheeks pinking a little as he realized what he said. “And you’re not _half_ bad when you’re awake, either.”

She ducked her head back against his shoulder, unable to drop the smile from her features as she laughed lightly, keeping it quiet enough that it wouldn’t disturb their warden. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” She said teasingly.

“Good.” He brushed his lips against her hairline. “You should.”

*

That was where they found them, hours later, with Rosie still curled up against his chest and his lips still at her hairline. Daisy tried not to blush when they woke her up, although she felt the burn in her cheeks and the nauseating feeling of judgment from his gaze when he jumped up, nearly knocking them both to the ground, upon hearing Jemma’s soft ‘aww’.

Rosie was out like a light the moment that she was properly laid down again, which was a small miracle considering the amount of time it had taken them to get there. Daniel was gone by the time she crawled out of the nursery, and Fitz was mysteriously missing.

Jemma sat on the couch, a glass of wine in hand and one on the table for her. “Did you have an alright night?” She asked, patting the seat beside her. Daisy only hovered for an extra second before she grabbed her own glass and sunk into the softness of the couch.

“Your daughter is a menace when she’s teething,” she answered back, eyes flickering up to meet Jemma’s. The other woman laughed lightly. “I mean, she’s a menace anyway, but still.”

Jemma laughed at that, shooting her a grin, although she didn’t deny the obvious. Rosie was cute, but she was going to be a handful when she grew up. They would need all hands on deck for that one, not like Christopher, or his soon-to-be sibling.

“So, you called Daniel.”

Oh god, here it was. She tried not to wince outwardly, burying any potential comment into a drink. Of course, it wasn’t her finest hour, but he _had_ been the only one who could, guarantee, be there. It was only logical.

(He’d once said he always would be there for her… but this hadn’t been about her. It was about Rosie.)

“Yeah,” she said lamely after a moment, staring down at the glass in her hand. She pinched her lips together into a thin line. “Rosie calmed down after he came. He’s a real gift with her.”

She reminded herself that those were the reasons why she’d broken up with him in the first place. The reasoning that he could find someone with whom he could have that and them not be damaged was foolproof. He _would_ be great at it, because he already was, in a rather detached way. Sadie and Tyler adored him, Rosie had warmed right up the moment he’d come in and hell, even Christopher, who didn’t naturally warm to people, adored him.

He was a great soul, for reasons that she couldn’t even begin to list.

Jemma raised her eyebrows contemplatively, considering her words and their deeper meaning, no doubt, but Daisy’s mind had already begun spiralling. After Rosie had been born, after that conversation had come up, she’d let herself get spooked. She’d let herself crawl into her hidey-hole and stay there because it had been easy; it had been methodical.

But tonight, she’d been reminded how easy he’d always made everything seem. He’d reminded her of all the things that she had once adored about him. (The things that she still, inevitably, did.)

“Did anything… else, happen?’ Jemma was the picture of faux casual, but her tone was anything but. Daisy felt her cheeks pink, thinking back to moments before the disaster when it all sunk in. When she had erased the distance between them.

When he’d kissed back.

“Nope.” She said, too loudly, too fast. “Nothing… at _all_.”

“Oh, really?” Her friend nodded, taking a slow sip of her wine before laying it back down on the arm of the chair, contemplating Daisy’s words. “Because your, um, your lipstick is a little… smudged.” She made a circular gesture around her own mouth, and that was precisely the moment that Daisy thought she just might die. “And I really don’t think berry pink is his color.”

She fucking knew.

Arguably, there was no point in denying the obvious now, but she contemplated it anyway. Reaching over, she laid her glass on the coffee table – on a coaster, of course, because Jemma would have killed her for any other alternative – and sat back, giving her friend a knowing look.

“So,” she murmured, biting down on her lower lip. “Something _may_ have happened, but it doesn’t have to mean anything.” She argued, and her voice rose a couple of decibels as she did. She grimaced gently. Not what she wanted.

She wanted to, at the very least, _appear_ put together. Not that the kiss had left a ghost of an imprint on her that didn’t seem to want to leave.

“Unless you want it to.” There was a challenge in her friend’s voice, and Jemma took another sip of her wine, watching her over the rim of her glass. Daisy stared back.

“Which I don’t.” She avoided Jemma’s pointed stare. “I broke up with him, remember?”

That wasn’t particularly new news; they’d both been over this before, including the conversation that had happened the day after, when Daisy had broke down and finally let them know what happened, feeling lost and confused and a little guilty, for some reason. That last feeling had stuck around for long than she would admit.

She still had a box of his stuff that she’d never given back, though she’d seen him multiple times since the end of their relationship. Sometimes, though she’d never admit it, she would take out one of his shirts and sleep in it, giving herself that memory for just a little longer. It wasn’t that she was in denial, she thought, maybe just too stubborn and hurt and fragile. She hadn’t wanted to give him the chance to hurt her.

But she still loved him. Still thought about him more than she would admit. There was still an ache that lasted beyond any of her other relationships.

Jemma nodded, although she didn’t say much for a moment. She seemed to be thinking over her conversation paths, choosing the one that made the most sense. Somehow, Daisy didn’t doubt that that was exactly what she was doing. “Who kissed who?”

Daisy balked for a second, mouth opening and closing before she pursed her lips into a pout, and she knew that Jemma knew she had her. Fuck. “Okay. Maybe that was me but that doesn’t mean –”

“What _does_ it mean?” She asked, her voice no longer casual, but slightly demanding. God, she hated that Jemma was so good at pulling information out of her sometimes.

She shook her head slowly, pressing her fingers into her temple as she did. “I don’t know.” She murmured, her voice tiny and quiet.

“Do you want to know?”

The question made her take pause. Maybe, in the moment, if Rosie hadn’t started snuffling and on the verge of another breakdown, she might’ve considered that option. But now? She wasn’t so sure. But maybe she wanted to.

“Maybe.” She pursed her lips together, trying to ignore the way the idea made her heart speed up. Even after all this time. “I don’t know.” She dipped her head away from Jemma’s gaze, trying to ignore the sympathetic way she looked at her. This _was_ her own doing. “Yes.”

Jemma reached out, grabbing her hand and patting it gently. “Then, Daisy,” she said softly. “I think you have your answer.”

* * *

_one hundred and twenty nine days after_

She gets the text early morning and almost groans. Not because she didn’t think spending some of the only time she may get to have with her best friend was a terrible no-good, nada idea, but rather because it was just crawling past nine, and Jemma was already making plans for nine tonight.

Dear God, how this woman managed to keep herself together with a baby was beyond her.

Jemma, 9:02am  
 _Hey! Fitz said he would take care of Rosie tonight if you wanted to come and hang with your dear old Mom friend? I have reservations at 9:00._ ♥ Let me know!  
  
Daisy, 9:05am  
 _God, as long as there’s a bottle of wine available, I’m down._  
  
Jemma, 9:06am  
 _Perfect. I’ll let him know!_

Despite herself, she did find herself just, perhaps, maybe, the slightest bit excited about the prospect. She and Jemma discussed dinner options over lunch, and she was genuinely, really looking forward to spending the night with her best friend. They’d had a few friend-dates since she’d have Rosie, but there was no denying that the two of them spent most of their time talking to the baby and less time talking to each other.

So, naturally, when she showed up that night, feeling refreshed and looking to spend a nice night out, everything seemed to damper very quickly when the hostess brought her to her table, and she saw who was sitting there, waiting.

Daniel fucking Sousa. She was going to kill Jemma.

As to not make it worse for the poor waitress who looked just as confused by the twin glares that they were sharing over the table while she fixed her napkin to lay over her lap. He thanked the waitress, nonetheless, and asked for the wine menu. Given that there were no empty seats at their two-person table, Daisy already had a sneaking suspicion what was going on, but she allowed herself just a handful of minutes, watching the clock tick past nine before she pulled out her phone.

Daisy, 9:03pm

_Are you okay? Like. you're never late. Is it something with Rosie?_

Daisy, 9:09pm

_Are you dead? You're dead, right? No wait, you wouldn't be late to your own funeral_

Daisy, 9:15pm

_Hellooooooooooo. Why do you hate me?_

Daisy, 9:18pm  
 _I swear to God, if you don’t get here soon, I’m putting out an APB for you_  
  
Daisy, 9:19pm  
 _Jemma Anne Fitz-Simmons! You better be dead!_  
  
Daisy, 9:20pm  
 _We were doing just fine without your involvement!!!  
Wait. Were you even going to show up? I know you don’t have Rosie! I saw your Instagram post.  
Oh my god. You two are totally screwing somewhere right now aren’t you????  
  
_Daisy, 9:30pm  
 _Consider our friendship canceled_.  
  
Jemma, 10:03pm  
 _Have fun! Be safe! Text me when you’re home xx_

She let out a long groan and all but slammed her phone onto the table, running her hand down her face while he looked up, amused. The waitress came around again, offering the menu for their drinks and telling them that their dinner would be by soon.

Dinner? Her eyebrows scrunched up and she let out another groan.

“Let me guess,” he said finally, one of the only times that he had spoken to her in the full hour that they had been there. “She conned your dinner choice out of you like he did with me?”

It struck her then, when they were talking about dinner choices, that Daisy _had_ let it slip what she thought she might order. That only seemed to sour her mood a little more. God, she hated both of them.

“They are lucky that their baby is cute,” she let out a tiny grumble. “And that I want her to have a happy, fulfilled life with both of her parents, because I could kill them right now.” She pursed her lips into an angry pout as she thought about her conversation with Jemma the previous week after the babysitting incident.

God, she’d been planning this the whole time, hadn’t she?

She didn’t even really think that she was _that_ mad, just that she was having more fun _not_ acknowledging what was going on, and the fact that seeing him that night and spending time with him reminded her that, maybe she wanted everything to work out.

And maybe that she wanted to work through whatever feelings that were holding her back from doing just that.

Sure, the kiss hadn’t helped things, but she couldn’t really say that she regretted that either. The only thing that she did regret was how it made it feel so weak and strong all at once, while reminding her of all the things that she seemed to adore about him.

Dinner and their drinks were laid out one-by-one, and she stared at the plate. It looked just as delicious as it had in the photos Jemma had shared with her, but she was suddenly very not hungry.

They both stared blankly at their plates, long after the waitress and her co-worker had slipped away to give them some privacy, and Daisy pressed the heels of her hands into her thighs as she let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Daisy,” he said in a soft and low voice, as to not cause a scene. “If you want to go, then you can.”

“That’s the problem.” She said, more frustrated than she should be. “I don’t want to. Because I keep thinking about last week and rolling it over my head and I…” She rubbed her temples, letting out another grumble while he watched on, completely focused on her and god, she sort of wished that he would look away so she could focus. “Fuck, Daniel. I miss you.”

And there it was, the truth. In the grand scheme of things, maybe it would have been easier coming out of her mouth four months ago when her heart had been aching and when she had been staring at the phone, begging it to ring and for her to have a second chance that she never actually chased…

She was a fool, wasn’t she?

He let out a shaky breath as he watched her, his eyes open and honest and caring as always. She wished that didn’t make things worse. “What should we do about it?” He asked, sliding his hand to cover hers.

“I…” She stared down at his hand, letting out a gentle sigh. “I don’t know.”  
  


* * *

_one hundred and thirty days after_

The air was cold, it was dark, and she was tired. She tugged the cardigan she had draped over her shoulders a little tighter, pushing herself back and forth lightly. The swaying was doing nothing to calm her overactive mind and neither was the cold, but she’d always found this place to be a lot calmer than everywhere else.

Despite the fact that it was, quite literally, in the middle of the city. Maybe it was the memories that came with this place, maybe it was the need for familiarity. She didn’t care to elaborate it beyond that.

She had gone to Jemma and Fitz’s apartment after the dinner, despite the progress they’d made, and lost her temper. It wasn’t her finest hour, and she’d known that she would have to apologize in the morning. She knew Jemma’s heart was in the right place.

She heard footsteps behind her and stopped swaying, pursing her lips outward as she let out a soft sigh. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who had found her. Only three people knew that this was her hideout: one of them was in the Maldives, one of them had a seven month old, and then the other one, apparently, had nowhere else to be.

He sunk into the swing beside her, the whole apparatus shaking a little when he did, and she glanced over in his direction before resuming her swaying. For a while, neither of them said much. For a while, that was enough.

“How did you find me?” She asked when the need to break the silence became too much. Daisy wasn’t the type to find comfort in the quiet, but maybe that was partially because she’d never allowed herself to have much of it.

He knew that, though.

“You always go here to think.” He told her quietly, jaw tense when she stole another glance. “Jemma said that you’d stormed out of their apartment earlier after our… dinner and hadn’t been answering her calls, and we both sort of figured out the rest.”

Two of the people who she’d let know her the most conspiring against her. She tried not to be annoyed at that thought, knowing primarily that it came from a place of love and caring. Something that she didn’t think she deserved most days. Any day, really.

“I didn’t storm out.” She argued, although she knew he was probably right. Jemma had called her bluff and maybe she hadn’t been ready, or prepared, for someone to do that. Especially not Jemma, who was levels of kind and patience that Daisy could only dream about. “I walked briskly.”

She could see him roll his eyes from the corner of hers and let out a small puff of a self-deprecating laugh. “You upset… Rosie.” He murmured, though the way he said it made her think that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at all. She tried not to think about it.

“She’s young. She won’t remember it tomorrow.” She bit on the inside of her cheek. Rosie was lucky; she had a full brood of people who loved her and cared for her and the promise of a good future. She _could_ forget this, all of this, everything. Daisy forgot very little from her own.

Daniel laughed dryly, raising his eyebrow. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“No.” She shot out quickly, dipping her head and letting out a slow, uneven sigh that bordered on shaky. “God no.”

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was. Because the way she saw it, she’d ruined pretty much every good thing she’d ever had in one way or another. Sometimes it wasn’t direct, like the time that she’d been eight and she’d called her foster mother “Mom”, trying it out and was sent back the next day.

Sometimes, like with him, she knew it was. And that wasn’t something she’d particularly thought recently. No, that had been the kind of information that had been festering inside of her head since day zero since the day he’d left with a bag of his items and never came back.

“Hey,” he nudged her foot with his, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Talk to me.”

She wondered if the feeling of inferiority would ever slip away. If staring at him now, someone who was kind and sweet and fucking the perfect definition of perfect and begging her to talk to him instead of shutting him out would ever feel like less of a burden on her.

She’d been the one to ask him to leave, and she’d been the one to watch him go, spending every night on the side of the bed that had always been occupied by him in some vain attempt to gain back something she’d knowingly lost.

Sometimes, if she focused hard, she swore she could still smell that shitty cologne that had once been imprinted on everything she owned, and it was always the best and worst start to her day.

“Do you ever wonder how different things could be?” She asked after a moment, too afraid to look at him, then. Too afraid to know what he was thinking, because he always wore his heart on his sleeve. “If we’d just…”

He seemed to contemplate her question, rolling it around in his head again and again and there was something about the silence that made her all the more unsettled. He wasn’t a loud man, but he always said what was on his mind. “Sometimes.” He replied after a long moment.

God, she wished she knew what was on his mind.

“Do you think we’d be better people?”

“I think,” he twisted a little in his swing, and she laughed quietly as the resistance tried to pull him back. “ _Better_ is subjective. Every day we strive to get ‘better’ and be the best versions of ourselves. But that doesn’t mean when we fail that we have to start all over again.”

She smiled despite herself, despite the situation. Daisy dipped her gaze away, twisting her shoe into the sand beneath her. “When did you get so wise?” She murmured, more to herself than him, but that wasn’t a surprise to her anymore. He was one of the kindest people she knew.

“Oh, I haven’t.” He replied dryly. “I get all my best tips from cereal boxes. It’s amazing what life tips you can learn from a bowl of Shreddies.”

She laughed, then, loud and obnoxious and for the first time all day, she genuinely felt a strike of happiness, of joy. Even if it was short lived. She twisted to look at him, the chain having a much easier job twisting her back into place as opposed to him and watched him for a moment. His eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

“Do you regret it?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he tilted his head, silently beckoning for clarification. “Walking out when I told you to?” Daisy asked, her heart in her throat when she spoke.

A part of her had rehearsed this conversation in her head; had gone over every parameter in a way that would make Jemma beam with pride. But it all fell to shit now, sitting in front of him, the reminder that she missed him more prominent than her pride.

Daniel nodded instantly, not giving her words more than a handful of seconds of thought. “Of course I do. But it was what you wanted, and I’d never go against that.”

She felt everything seemingly crash around her in that moment, and pressed her lips into a thin line, if only to stop them from wobbling. Gripping the chains of the swing a little tighter, she let out a tiny, pitiful laugh.

“I didn’t know what I wanted.” She swallowed down the sudden rush of emotions as her eyes began to blur. “In a way I still don’t but…” She shook her head, looking toward him with a sudden fierce determination that looked anything but with her red rimmed eyes and shaky stature. “I know that I love you. And that I never stopped.”

Maybe, she thought, that could be enough this time.

“My feelings never changed, Daisy.” His voice was quiet, soothing in a way that she hadn’t expected, which was something bizarre in itself because in every single way, that was exactly who he was.

That was what she loved about him; every fractured piece of her seemed to fall together naturally whenever he was around, and even on the days that they didn’t, he loved her all the same.

“You really fucked my life up.” She laughed dryly when she spoke, watching his eyebrow lift up in a mix of curiosity and amusement at her bluntness. He dug the heel of his hand into the chain, and she watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed. “This time? Two years ago? I told both Fitz and Jemma that I’d be contentedly single for the rest of my miserable life and that was fine for me.”

Jemma had told her then, in no uncertain terms, that she would find her person the way that she had found Fitz, and while Daisy had laughed at her then, she supposed that her words were a warning now. There hadn’t been a point in the meantime that she’d allowed herself to fantasize, and that wasn’t her being completely bitter. She’d allowed herself to fall open too many times only to find herself on the receiving end of the worst of the people she’d grown to love.

Maybe that was on her – disaster attracted disaster, and she chased chaos on the worst of days. She’d allowed the past mistakes to filter in and out of her life while she’d thrown together a façade that it could all be okay, and then forgotten to let herself accept that it couldn’t always be that way.

“And then you.” She swallowed, the brimming tears harder to blink away now, and her voice swelled with emotion that she hadn’t anticipated when she’d begun speaking. “You came.”

“You fucked mine up,” he threw back, and the phrasing made her laugh again. Daniel was, by no means, a choir boy, but she hadn’t expected him to throw her phrasing back in her face. He was all the soft edges, moulding around her sharp ones. “In every single way, good, bad, and the ugly.” He gazed right into her eyes when he spoke, the candor in his voice and his eyes almost more than she could handle in that moment. “But I’ve learned that I quite like having it that way.”

“Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.” He replied softly, honestly. “But maybe half the fun is finding that out… together.”

Daniel toed across the distance between them, as close as the swings would let him, and she met him in the middle. Their knees brushed together, and she watched him for a long moment, genuinely watching him. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, watching her and waiting for her to say something, anything.

But she had nothing left to say.

Instead, she loosened her grip on the chain and reached across, cupping his cheek. She could hear the soft hitch of his breath as her hand smoothed across his stubble, and she hesitated for only a moment before slanting their mouths together in a slow and gentle embrace. His hand landed at her waist a moment later, holding her closer, keeping her safe.

She pulled away after a moment, their foreheads falling together as she did. Neither of them wanted to move too far. She stroked the pad of her thumb along the apple of his cheek.

“ _Together_.”

* * *

_two hundred and seventy four days after_

“You have to admit that she looks cute.”

Jemma stood; arms crossed over her chest. Her light blue dress was covered in light flowers, and looked vaguely like the one that she had originally been petitioning for Rosie to wear before Daisy had intervened.

Daisy had Rosie up on top of the change table, where she’d spent the better part of an hour fitting her into the tutu/t-shirt and converse combo that she’d brought as part of one of the _many_ birthday gifts that she had gotten her god-child. The young girl looked between them, brown eyes looking curiously as the duo spoke.

“It’s not functional,” Jemma replied patiently, though she couldn’t argue the cute point, so Daisy saw it as a win. “She’s likely to spread most of her cake with the edges of it.” She added, gesturing to where Rosie was currently already picking at the tulle that pulled together the tutu.

Daisy rolled her eyes a little, taking Rosie by each hand and pulled it away from the tulle. She made a tiny grunt of disappointment but latched onto both of Daisy’s fingers. “Now, Rosie. You like the outfit that Auntie Daisy got for you, right?”

To her merit, Rosie did make a squawking sound in response, grinning widely at her, but she didn’t think that was going to be the proverbial nail in the coffin for her winning case. She shot a glance in Jemma’s direction, anyway, as though her outburst said everything that it needed to.

It did not.

Daisy hooked Rosie onto her hip, holding the baby’s hand with hers. “Come on, Mama.” She pouted, swing her back and forth a little as Rosie made a move to grab for her hair. She narrowly managed to avoid danger. “Look at how cute I am. Shouldn’t I stay this cute?”

Jemma rose her eyebrow, letting out a small huff of a sigh. “I really don’t think she sounds like that,” she answered finally, moving to fix the headband on Rosie’s head. That part wasn’t going to last long, given her affinity to them, but it looked cute for now.

“Well, no,” Daisy agreed. “But I think if I speak using my Scottish accent again, your husband is going to kick me out of your house.”

From behind them, there was a loud scoff. Daisy turned around to see Fitz, standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his own chest. Daisy wasn’t all that surprised to see the light blue button up that he was wearing. Of course, those two would coordinate outfits. “You can’t call that an accent.” He muttered around another scoff and then he blinked at Rosie’s outfit. “We’re going with the tutu?” He asked, mildly surprised.

“Daisy can be… quite persuasive.” She answered in the politest tone that Daisy thought she could manage in that moment, but really, nobody in that room could say that Rosie wasn’t the cutest at the party.

She grinned widely, bouncing Rosie back and forth a little as she reached for the tulle again. Jemma laughed behind her, moving up in front to lift her daughter into her arms, pressing a kiss to her temple as she did.

“The tulle’s going to be a terrible idea,” she promised Daisy, although she caught Rosie’s hand before it could entangle too far in the mess. “If she makes it past the hour without ripping it, drinks are on me next girl’s night.”

Daisy liked those odds.

“Oh, good.” A fourth voice spoke as it joined them. She lifted her gaze to meet Daniel’s, who didn’t look quite as chipper as his tone portrayed. “Daisy won, did she?”

She grinned back in response as Fitz-Simmons gave equal looks of dismay. They knew they couldn’t argue her main point, which was that their daughter was the absolute cutest little being, and that was their only real loss.

“The converse was your idea,” she said plainly, tugging at the faux lace of the baby converse that had, surprisingly, been the easiest part of the ensemble.

He rose his eyebrows, challenging her. “That’s just because every other option was everything _but_ functional.” She pursed her lips as he leaned against the other side of the doorframe. “I think one of them were like, ballet flats or something. She wasn’t going to be half as mobile in those,” he said, more as an afterthought toward her parents as opposed to her.

Traitor.

“I suppose we should be thanking you, then,” Fitz replied dryly as Jemma slid around Daisy, Rosie bouncing along with her. The moment Rosie was within reaching distance of her father, her arms were up, and she was babbling idly in his direction. He slipped her into his embrace and pressed a kiss against the apple of her cheek as he settled her.

“You should.” Daniel replied curtly, either not picking up on the sarcasm in his tone or just, frankly, ignoring it. “Anyway, I came to tell you that the 2.5 kids that we have out there are all wondering about food and I was sent as the sacrifice to ask.”

Jemma let out a soft laugh, but then stopped, her eyebrows furrowing. “Okay, I know the one and a half kid, but who’s the other?”

“Hunter, of course.” He replied, not missing a beat.

To his merit, his response _did_ catch Jemma off guard. She gaped for a second before dissolving into incredulous laughter. On her way out the door, she patted him on the back for that one, moving wordlessly toward the kitchen.

“We’ll join you in a second.” Daisy said before he could when they both noticed Fitz was still hanging back. “I’m going to clean up the mess I made so Jemma doesn’t curse me _as_ much later.”

Fitz nodded his appreciation, waving Rosie’s little hand and whispering, “say bye bye for now, Rosie.” The little girl only had babbles to offer, but Daisy waved anyway. She wondered if she was ever this sappy about Christopher when he was this small, or if it was just the hormones to blame. God help her the first time that she meets his little sister. She was sure to be a goner then.

“I remember that,” she gestured to the change table behind him flippantly. “Being a lot easier when she was smaller. I swear, I’m going to have bruises from her wild little legs.” She held up the bare edge of her arm for inspection, which he pretended to take a look for, although they both knew that it wasn’t _that_ serious.

She was still tiny, and barely capable of doing any harm at all.

Daniel hummed anyway, rubbing his hand down the length of her arm. “I suppose that practice makes perfect.”

Daisy let out a dry laugh, though a beat later she was leaning forward, gripping the edge of the change table as a rush of nausea rolled through her. She breathed through it, begging the feeling to just give her a break, for once. A couple hours.

Morning sickness was a sham and she was personally going to get it labeled all-the-god-damn-time sickness by the end of this. There was a part of her that loathed Jemma, who always looked pulled together, even at her worse. She felt that she’d needed an extra _day_ or two just to try.

“You feel okay?” He was suddenly in front of her, and she realized that she had underestimated how lost she’d been in her own thoughts when she heard his voice. It made her jump just a little.

Moving to grab the dress, she fixed it on the tiny hanger and moved toward the closet, hanging it up. “I’m not about to puke on your shoes, if that’s what you’re asking.” She stopped for a minute, stomach seemingly rolling at the thought. “I retract my previous statement.”

He took a step toward her, his hand resting on her back when she turned around, counting backwards from ten. That almost never worked, but she was hoping for nothing short of a miracle right now. She remembered how bad Jemma had been in the beginning, and how long she’d stood guard outside of the female washroom just to give her some semblance of privacy.

Arguably, she hadn’t been _as_ bad but there were still times when she was almost certain the floor was going to be her only bed for an undetermined amount of time.

There was a small part of her that felt sort of guilty that she hadn’t told Jemma already, given that she had been the first one to know about Rosie, long before Rosie was even anything more than just ‘bean’. But then there was the more realistic part of her that told her to keep this secret just that – at least until they were in the proverbial clear.

“Two weeks?” He offered, as though it were some consolation prize that they were gaining for.

Unfortunately, the _terrible three months of morning sickness_ was a guide. A really terribly pulled together one, too. She pursed her lips. “Eighteen days,” she corrected, closing the closet door and twisting fully toward him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest, breathing in the fresh scent of his new bodywash because, apparently, baby agreed with her take on the shitty cologne. “If I’m lucky.”

He tugged her into a hug, brushing a kiss against her ear and sighing gently. They stayed there for a while longer, until the feeling subsided and she pulled away slowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin as she did.

“We should join the others.” She said, exhaling slowly. He watched her with a careful look, hand on her lower back, rubbing slow circles that she leaned into. “I might only have fourteen minutes before the smell of cake repulses me, and I really want cake.”

He let out a surprised laugh at her statement, moving to grab her other hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together. “Well, in that case, how could I refuse?” He took a step toward the door, gently pulling her toward the door. She squeezed his hand around hers.

“You can’t.” She replied, casting a glance behind her at the nursery, the promise of the future in the back of her mind. Perhaps it’s not the one she’d envisioned two years ago, or even a year ago, but she’d grown to find that she didn’t mind it much, either. “You wouldn’t want to, either.”

It was almost perfect.

Daniel grinned, pulling her close enough to quickly press a kiss to her lips. “You know,” he murmured as he pulled away, stealing another kiss for good measure. “You got me there.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, you get a cookie. If not, thanks for the cookie!  
> This was an undisclosed mess, but hey, it's bonus points if I own it, right? Right?


End file.
